


The stars looked down and took pity on you

by theLadyofBelmont, Yellow (theLadyofBelmont)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Angst, Based on a Tumblr Post, Bruce dies too, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Character Death, Dick Grayson Gets a Hug, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson and Damian Wayne are Siblings, Dick Grayson and Jason Todd are Siblings, Dick Grayson dies, Dick Grayson-centric, Don't Have to Know Canon, Everyone is Dead, Gen, Grief/Mourning, How Do I Tag, Hurt Dick Grayson, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, I Don't Even Know, I tag as I go, Jason dies, Lots of Angst, Mentions of Suicide, No Happy Ending Fest, POV Wally West, Wally West Needs a Hug, Wally West dies, Wally West is Kid Flash, Wally West is the best of friends, damian dies, i don't even have tumblr, very little editing we die like robins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:09:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24761338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLadyofBelmont/pseuds/theLadyofBelmont, https://archiveofourown.org/users/theLadyofBelmont/pseuds/Yellow
Summary: Three times Wally came when Dick called him in the middle of the night, and one time he couldn't.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Dick Grayson & Wally West, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 21
Kudos: 126





	1. The shape of a friend

**Author's Note:**

> So I read this tumblr post about Dick calling Wally when Jason, Bruce and Damian die and then how he calls Wally again when he is dead just to hear his voice, and I read this a long time ago but I only recently found the words to write a fic based on this. It kind of has cannon things but not completely since I don't know much about how their deaths unfolded so this is me just going with what little I know and what I imagined.  
> The title is based on a book called "The stars look down", by A. J. Cronin. Disclaimer: I don't know anything about the author or the book (I haven't read it though I mean to), I just liked the title and thought it sounded poetic and gave it a little twist of my own, but if any of you know anything about it that you think I should know please tell me! Thank you!  
> This story will have four chapters, I really hope you guys like it!

The woman is slowly making her way down the hall, tiny steps setting off loud creaking sounds on the floorboards. He is here, of that she is sure; and close too, she can _feel_ him. He is here, and most importantly, he knows she is here too.

_Come on, West, you see worse every day; this is nothing._

The blade shimmers in her hand as she passes a window and the moon catches on the knife. Both her hands shake as she holds on two it; her knuckles turning white as the music rises disturbingly. Off-key piano notes make the hairs on the back of Wally's neck stand like prickles.

the floor sinks with a painfully loud noise behind her and the woman whips around. She peers into the darkness but can't find anything.

-Who's there? -she whispers like she doesn't really want an answer.

_Run, damn it! he's got a gun Susan and you have a knife, just GO!!_

Much to Wally's dismay she inches forward a little and takes a deep breath, mustering up the courage to speak again. She stands straighter.

-WHO'S THERE!?

-It's Britney bitch!

Wally all but jumps on his seat, hands flying to protect his face and a very unsuperhero-like scream squeezing out of him. His feet tangle in the blanket, he looses balance and falls flat on his back.

He swallows hard, attempting to catch the breath that has been sucked out of his lungs, and telepathically restart his heart. A few seconds pass before it manages to start beating again, unbridled and in the back of his throat, but beating still.

Wally pauses the movie feeling like ten years have been taken from him and stretch to grab his phone from where he had left it at the other end of the couch. Pop music fills the tiny apartment as the song continues to play.

_I really need to change Dick's ring-tone to something less scary. Or maybe I should stop watching horror movies at 3 am that only increase my alreadnyvery high paranoia from being a superhero since I was thirteen._

_Nah, the ring-tone will have to go._

He glances at the screen absentmindedly as he pushes back the tricky pull of said paranoia that tells him that if Dick is calling this late something is wrong; and wonders instead if Dick's ring-tone for him is still Wally's laugh. They had recorded it once when they were teens because it had had Dick rolling on his back with laughter for ten minutes.

-Boy Wonder! What's got you up so late? -he beams as he lays back against the couch -I know bats are creatures of the night and all, but you should really consider going to bed. Also, you scared the living crap out of me; I was watching this movie you told me ab...-his cheer dies out as he is met by silence at the other end of the line. Concern creeps up again, buzzing around his ear. -Dick are you alright? Did something happen?

A beat.

Another.

And then sniffing and a gasp for breath.

Alarms go off inside Wally's head as he gets up, thoughts spinning.

-Dick what's wrong?What happened?Are you hurt? -he is probably slurring his words together so he takes a deep breath. If Dick really is hurt this isn't the time to panic. -Where are you? I'll go get you.

He is already on his feet, frantically searching for a coat, his keys, his phone but _no that is already on my hand, focus West,_ a scarf because it is unbelievably cold for this time of the year, his...

he pauses, door already open and a gust of wind rushing in to redden his nose and cheeks, as the sniffing becomes harder and Dick's breaths shorter and more erratic. On the other end of the line, wherever that is, he is crying but he doesn't sound hurt, he sounds...like hi heart is breaking.

Wally shudders, because maybe there's nothing he can do to fix it.

-Hey, Dick, it's okay, it's okay, -he keeps his tone gentle and low, his words as slow as he can manage despite the panic and his innate speed telling him to hurry up because _there's just not enough_ ** _time_** _; there's never enough time_. -it's okay, you're okay, you'll be okay. -he doesn't know what he is doing, even less what he is saying, but he keeps talking. He figures Dick can use a comforting voice right now and he can't just sit and do _nothing_ wile his best friend's world might be falling apart. -Just tell me what's wrong; I'll help you. What happened?

Dick sniffes louder and Wally can practically _see_ him curled up in a dark corner or on a ridiculously high rooftop somewhere, his face contorted by pain and his hands rubbing his eyes and nose, trying to put it all back, to wrap it up and keep it in again because that's what he was trained to do; and Dick ,right be different than the rest of the bats but it's awfully easy to slip back into old habits when everything crumbles.

-Wha-

-Little Wing is dead. -his voice sounds wobbly, all of his usual and familiar sunshine gone. -He is dead...Jason...he's...he's dead, Wally. Jason's dead.

A yellow cape swells and flaps in his mind; a tiny golden R and a cocky grin. A pair of worn sneakers and another of cheeks that burned bright pink with half concealed pride. The young boy in the red hoodie two sizes too big (because it was Dick's); the second Robin; the little brother Dick had brought with him so many times and that he loved as deeply and earnestly as he always did...

_No..._

He has to lean on the doorframe.

_I'm sorry, I am so sorry. What happened? Do you want to talk? How did this happen? Are you hurt? What can I do?What do you need? I'm so sorry._

The words pile up on his tongue but every time he opens his mouth they crumble on his lips. So he continues to gape, taking in the freezing night air that makes his throat sore and his lungs sting.

-...Wally? -it takes him by surprise. It's a strained, barely audible but it still makes him shudder. -Are you still there?

He swallows the lump on his throat. -I am. Where are you?

**...**

Cemeteries are never the place where you want to spend more time than necessary. Yet again, _Gotham_ is not a place where you want to spend more time than absolutely necessary, so it's no surprise its cemetery is the worst of their kind. And of course that's where Dick is.

He almost misses him.

The city lights pass in, well, a _flash_ , and he soon finds himself in the dark hazy patch of muddy, almost swamp-lil, land that is Gotham's Cemetery.

Wally has only been there a couple of times when he had accompanied Dick to visit his parent's grave, and back then he hand's registered wether the tombstones were organized by alphabetical order or by any other sorting system. It wasn't a place he had wanted to remember but now, after five minutes of running around between vine-engulfed mausoleums and crumpled gravestones he has begun to regret that decision.

He figures Jason's grave will be somewhere close to Martha and Thomas Wayne's. Which means...nothing, really, considering he has no idea where that is either. So he keeps running like a maniac, hoping he doesn't come across any guards that might question his speed and trying to be as respectful as possible to all these dead people he doesn't want to disturb.

He runs and runs and skitters on the rain drunk earth because Gotham only knows rain and fog and tonight it's somehow a little bit of both. And all of a sudden he stops dead on his tracks (probably a poor choice of words considering the situation, but accurate enough). he squints and confirms that the dark spot a few meters away is, in fact, a hunched human being and not a demon come to take his soul or haunt his nightmares forever.

He walks towards it, threading carefully around marble and granite gravestones, and slowly starts making out the shape of a friend. He's sitting on the grass, curled up in a tight ball and, Wally notes, pompously avoiding the patch of fresh earth in front of the headstone. Jason's headstone. The realization sends a shiver down his back.

Dick is wearing a thin jacket that is completely sodden and probably doing more harm than good by now; and his hair falls limp over his eyes.

Seeing him on the ground like that makes Wally's heart clench. It is so out of character, so _unnatural_ and _wrong_ , like a beached whale. Dick is graceful, light; the comparison to a bird comes easily. _He was Robin for a reason._ Everyone that met him could agree Dick's place was in the sky, high abovethe ground defying gravity; the space between rooftops; the thrill of a freefall. But it is as if somebody has cut his wings and brought him crashing and burning. But Wally won't let him burn.

-Hey, buddy...-he crouches beside him and drapes an arm over his shoulders. He is freezing cold.

Dick turns his head to face him, his lips are barely parted and his eyes glassy and swollen. -Wally...

And Dick's tone is so small and broken that Wally's heart breaks and he pulls him into a tight hug that mends no wings or spirits but, he hopes, brings his friend some comfort.

He steals a glance at the tombstone. The sight of Jason's name engraved in it is daunting. The stone is fresh and new and too white against the rich earth that houses Jason's body now.

Dick is crying on his shoulder but between the rain and the hold the headstone has on him he barely notices it. It hurts to look at it but Wally can't tear his eyes away from it.

This is Dick's _brother_ , Dick's _dead_ brother. Damn it, he _knew_ him, he had grown to _like_ him. He is bruce Wayne's son. _The man is probably going mad with grief right now; and poor Alfred..._ Wally can't help but worry this might kill him. he wonders if the thought is also present in his friend's mind.

They hug until Dick cries himself out and eventually pulls away, sniffing and hiccuping slightly. -Thanks for coming. -he manages and he doesn't say anything like "I'm fine" or "You didn't have to come"; because he is used to putting on a cold unaffected ex-Batman's protégé facade, but he has never needed that with Wally, and tonight isn't the exception.

-Of course, Dick, I'll always be here for you. -he swallows hard and hesitates for a second before asking. -What happened?

-It was the Joker. -he is shaking now so Wally keeps his arm around him.

He can't help his surprise. Granted, he didn't know much about the Joker other than that he had a weird thing for clowns and was a psychopath but he had never thought him capable of murdering a _child_. That's what Robin was; despite all his attempts at appearing older Jason was a child. _Had been._

_Gosh, he was fifteen._

-He killed him, Wal, and I...I wasn't even _here_! -he stares at his trembling hands like he doesn't recognize them, like they are somebody else's. -I don't-I was away for _so_ long, and I don't even remember...I don't remember what I was doing...what was _so_ important that I had to...I just dropped out of the map...and when I finally come back he's...Jason's been dead for three days.

He starts crying again but no tears come out so there are only the sobs that rake his body whole and the raindrops trickling down his face.

-I even -he tries so hard to speak that Wally wants t tell him that he doesn't need to, that they can talk when he is ready. But Dick seems determined. -I even bought him a book to-to make up for being away and-and gosh it's so stupid but I- he gestures vaguely to Wally's right. -I brought it here, I...I thought I could read it to h-him but...but I-I can't...I can't...I...

-It's okay, Dick, it's okay. -Wally reassures him, pulling him closer and running a hand through his soaked hair.

The wind hollows disturbingly (especially considering where they are right now) as tears fill his own eyes. Wally's never had a brother o a sister, not even a cousin he is close with. But he has the Titans, he has Dick, and if something ever happened to them...He can't imagine anything worse. He knows it's not the same though, but he thinks it's as close as he'll ever come.

He takes a long steadying breath, his throat aching at the cold air. -It's not stupid Dick. And I-I'll read to him...if you want to.

His friend looks at him like he is offering him the sun. -You don't mind?

Wally tries for a smile but it comes out sadder than he intends. -I would be happy to.

Dick nods, gratitude visible in his every move as he points towards the grave. -It's-it's there.

Wally turns his head squinting and realizes that what he had thought was a patch of earth that hadn't been properly smoothed over is in fact a small package. He reaches out and pulls it close, turning on his phone's flashlight.

His hearts sinks when the light falls on the brightly colored wrapping and bounces of the little silver circles and wavy lines that form the pattern.

_It was a gift._

He takes off his jacket and slides it over their heads, trying to form a sort of tent to keep the rain away. The mausoleum a few feet away would offer much better cover and would definitely be Wally's first choice but Dick doesn't seem willing to move and Wally doesn't want to spoil the book either so this improvised shelter will have to do.

He pulls off the scotch tapes that hold the paper together with immense care, and takes out the present. It is a nice hard cover edition, black on the back and burgundy on the front, or at least it seems that way in the dim shaky light of the flashlight. The golden letters engraved in it read "Little Women".

-It's one of his favorites. .Dick mumbles when he catches Wally staring at it. -He already had- _had_ , _had_ one at the Manor, he was always one for the classics, you know? But I-I got...I got him this one 'cause it has...has...

-Pictures. -Wally finished¡s for him when his voice breaks.

-Yeah, pictures. -he sniffs- It has pictures.

-And amazing ones too. -Wally adds as he flips through the pages with a faint rustling sound. The soft pastel colors used are a bit dulled in the pale light but the intricate details are still visible. -It's beautiful, Dick. He would had¡ve loved it.

Dick nods and for a moment looks up at him, and Wally ashes he could _say_ more, _do_ more to take away all the pain that drowns those sky blue eyes of his. He wants to add something, he feels like he should but ideas are coming to him ridiculously slow for a speedster and words evade him now. So he turns to the already written ones.

He reopens the book randomly at chapter 21 and starts reading, trying to maintain as steady a pace as he can manage despite his racing heart and chattering teeth.

He starts doing the voices too; a decided soft one for Joe and a nasal cheerful one for Laurie. Dick laughs at the gruff kind voice he chooses for Laurie's grandfather and it's the saddest sound Wally's ever heard.

He keeps on reading and somewhere between paragraphs Dick starts crying again. Wally's own voice becomes strained and threatens to crack but he clears his throat and carries on.

-I keep turning over new leaves and spoiling them, as I used to spoil my copybooks, -he reads, remembering one time after a mission when Jason had been on the verge of tears because his brother had gotten shot when pushing him out of the way.

_"I wasn't fast enough" Robin had said._

_"It's alright, Little Wing, I have a bit more experience than you, that's all. Don'r worry, though," Dick had replied ruffling his hair "you'll get the hang of it. You've got plenty of time."_

-And I make so many beginnings there will never be an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like the idea of Wally having loud cheerful and funny pop song as a ring-tone for Dick, and I love theatre-boy-classics-lover Jason Todd so of course I included it. I took the extract from Little Women, I really like that book and I basically chose the chapter for that quote at the end, I thought it suited the situation.  
> I don't think I've ever written in present tense, it's not what I'm used to so I hope I didn't make too many mistakes. Anyway, I hope you liked this first chapter the second one is on its way!


	2. Once again I put on a mask and go to see you, or, Please tell me the sun will shine again and until then you'll stay with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's chapter two! I didn't mean to take so long but school's been kicking my butt lately and I only just recently had the time to post here. I wanted t thank you all for your love and support on chapter 1 it really means a lot to me!!  
> So this chapter barely has anything to do with cannon, at least some parts but mostly I wrote what I wanted; I used the age difference from yOUNG justice though, because I didn't know how old they were. This chapter also has a bit more insight on Wally which isn't what I originally planned but I liked how it turned out, hope you guys do too!  
> Also, the title has to parts; the first one is a lyric from the song The Truth Untold by BTS (sang by Jimin, Jin, Jungkook and V) which I really love and recommend you to listen, and the second part is something I came up with. They are related to the story but to avoid spoilers I'll explain on the notes at the end of the chapter, hope you guys like this!  
> (Also, a little warning for depression related thoughts, I wasn't sure how to tag it but still wanted to let you guys know)  
> (I keep editing the notes at the end as I remember things I want to include)

Somehow, it's not weird to see Barry and Clifford the big red dog in the same room. It makes sense in a way Wally can0t really explain. It just does. So he doesn't question it.

-Wally, you're just in time.-Clifford says, wriggling his tail in barely contained excitement.

-In time for what?

-The ugly hat competition.- Barry explains like it's obvious

-Ugly hat competition...?

When Wally looks at him again he0's wearing a red beanie with a ridiculously huge foam banana on top. The painted face of a creepy clown that looks suspiciously like the Joker grins at him from it.

He turns to Clifford and there's a hat sitting on his head as well; a whirlwind of neon colours, wires and plastic birds.

-I don't have one. -Wally says already feeling his heart racing because _he doesn't have a hat and now they'll kick him out of the ugly hat competition and he really wants to stay and-and..._

And sure, no one's actually _said_ that but he _knows_ , he just _knows_ they'll kick him out unless he has a hat.

-That's what Mr. Jordan is here for, silly. -Clifford barks.

Wally whips his head around to find Hal Jordan, in full Green Lantern gear, sitting on a rocking chair. Except it's not Hal Jordan, it's his sophomore year science teacher, the one with the oversized sweaters. It just _looks_ like Hal Jordan but, again, Wally _knows,_ with a certainty he can't justify and can only compare to the one he had while dreaming.

Hal-the-teacher is concentrated on his knitting. The needles move swiftly in his gloved fingers as he continues to create a hat with the shape of the solar system.

Wally breathes easily now. He has a hat now. He won't be kicked out. He can stay a bit longer with Clifford and Barry; he hasn't been able to spend much time with Barry lately but now he has the chance. Everything is fine. He getsto be with Barry at this ugly hat competition. Everything is fine.

Hold on...

All of a sudden, Hal puts down Neptune and the rest of the planets, opens his mouth and starts singing.

-Here comes the sun, duru-duru. Here comes the sun and I say...It's alright...

Wally is quite impressed when a guitar solo starts coming out of him as well. The funny thing is, he sounds exactly like The Beatles.

Hold on...

The sound starts fading rapidly, like he is being pulled away from it.

-Oh God, this is a dream isn't it?

Wally wakes up shaken and shivering despite the mount of blankets he had previously assembled on top of him. A closer looks reveals that he has dropped some of them during the night.

Sleeps starts wearing off and, as usual, it takes away the memory of his dreams with it. Only two things are left behind: Barry and the feeling of being taken away from him. Or of him being taken away from Wally. At this point, it makes no difference.

He misses his mentor and uncle, he misses how things used to be between them, how close the were and how he would _always_ make time for Wally.

But Barry has been swamped in League business, he's been given more responsibilities lately and he is so proud and excited about this; his day job is keeping him busy too; and his aunt Iris is _pregnant_ and Wally _really_ doesn't want to get in the way. He is happy for him too, he really is. He just...he wishes things were a little different, that's all.

And he remembers being _so_ happy and relieved to finally have some alone time with Barry and it...turns out to be a dream. Somehow, having that taken away from him seems worse than never having it in the first place; it leave sa bitter aftertaste.

Wally shakes his head and glances at his wristwatch. Looking around the room, he wonders why he woke up at 5 in the morning if his alarm isn't supposed to go off until 7:30. His eyes fall on the tiny blinking light of his phone that signals a missed call.

No one calls at five in the morning unless they are in trouble, and given his list of contacts, that is very likely.

_What if it's Barry? What if he's hurt?_

He reaches put to his bedside table. The glow of the screen dazzles him and he has to lower it almost to the bare minimum to be able to see properly.

It's Dick.

The knowledge doesn't stop his mind from spinning out of control, if anything, it puts a little speed to it since his friend doesn't have the healing abilities of a speedster and he knows how reckless he can be at times. It's pretty fun, except when he's patrolling on his own with no one to help.

The phone starts ringing again, Dick's profile picture appearing on the screen and the music startling him despite the cheerful tune.

_Here comes the sun, duru-duru. Here comes the sun..._

Wally wastes no time in answering.

- _Hey!Are you alright?Did something happen?Is everything okay?_

_Slow down, West._

A few seconds of silence remind Wally of very similar conversation they had held years ago.

_No, no, Jason can't be dead. Not again, not after he_ _just_ _came back. He_ _can't_ _be._

And then.

-...Wally...

It's faint and strained; it barely sounds like Dick but Wally has heard him cry enough ties to knows it's him.

It's starting to look way too similar to that night and his heart skips a beat.

-Dick what...?

-Wally.- he repeats and it sounds choked and rushed and _desperate_.

-I...I can't...he-he's...and I...I thought...I could...I thought...-his words dissolve into sobs, as he gasps for breath that doesn't come fast enough and whimpers.

Wally pushes away the rest of the covers. It pains him to hear him like this; Dick, who is so much like the sun, always taking care of everyone; and not be able to _hold_ him, to do anything beside sitting who knows how far away and only hear how his friend breaks.

Something is off, though. Aside from the obvious, something is wrong. Even taking into account the distance, Dick sounds muffled, as if he were trying to contain himself. As if he didn't want to be heard.

Wally can't will his tongue to move any faster once it occurs to him why.

-Dick, why are you whispering? Are you okay, are you _safe_?-he asks trying to get him to focus even through his soft low tone. -Are you hiding from someone? I'll go get you. Just tell me where...

-I'm-I'm safe. -he stutters. He takes a few deeper breathes willing himself to calm down and the words just spill out of him, like they are burning him and he just wants to get them off of him. -Bruce is dead. He is _dead_ and I did _nothing_ I-I couldn't...he's just gone-he's...gone I- _lost_ him.

Wally's breath is knocked out of him. He freezes and feels his jaw drop a little. His eyes spin around the room, unable to focus properly, and all the while he thinks " _How_? How is Dick even _talking_ to him right now?" Because if Barry died he wasn't sure he would be able to find the strength to form a single syllable.

It just isn't possible, how could he be dead? How could someone as big, intimidating and ever-present as _Batman_ ; someone who seemed so _eternal_ , be _dead_?

But as he hears Dick sobbing, lost and utterly miserable, he remembers Batman hadn't just been the Dark Knight. Batman had been Bruce Wayne too. And Bruce Wayne had been one of the biggest kindest help to Gotham (some would say that was Batman but Wally is prepared to say it's debatable, depending on the situation). Bruce Wayne had been the man who had let Dick and him pull crazy stunts in the one hundred and one rooms of Wayne Manor, in the Batcave and even inside the Batmovile, and only _pretended_ not to slightly like them. Bruce Wayne had been the man who had opened his home to him that birthday the his parents couldn't make it and Barry was busy. Bruce Wayne had been the man who said 'I work alone' while adopting and loving every child that crossed his path. Bruce Wayne had been Dick's guardian, but also his father and, for a long time, his whole world. And he has just _lost_ him.

Wally strangles his pillow, trying to ground himself and pull it together.

-Where are you?

-No, Wal...It's alright we...we can talk over the phone. -Dick sniffed but with new found determination. It seems to Wally that he is regretting calling him.

-Nonsense; I'm coming over. Are you at the Manor? -he twists, already laying both feet on the carpeted floor.

-Wally you can't come here, my-my whole...my family's here, they...-and there's a rush in his voice as he breathes raggedly and attempts to regain control of himself. -Besides, you're hurt; you can't come running all the way to Gotham. And-and it's five in the morning, it's not...it's not fair of me to ask you to come and help me overtime something goes wrong, I...It's _not_.

-Dick it's...-he lacks the words to tell him that he would run to the very end of the galaxy if he needed him; that they are best friends, _brothers_ even, so this isn't a nuisance for him or something Dick has to earn. -It's not just _any_ something, this is...-he sighs- Look, I love you man and this matters so I'm coming over, alright?

-What about your leg? -he insists but his resolutions is melting into sheer relief.

Wally hesitates at that and looks down at this left leg. There are no scars left but he can still tell the three places where it broke. And while that has healed almost completely (it's taken him almost a week with his speedster healing abilities and all, but it had been a tough blow) Barry has still benched him from patrol (another reason why they keep missing each other).

But Dick needs him and he already felt _so_ much better this morning (Barry often tends to overreact when it comes to Wally) and...

-Tell Alfred to expect me. I'll be there in a... _flash_.

...

It takes him more than a flash really. His leg had felt like it was being pierced by needles at every step and at some point he had had to stop to catch his breath.

He arrives cursing and favoring his right leg, but he makes it and that's all that matters.

-Master West.

Wally barely recognizes the man that opens the door. The little light coming from the inside hits him from behind but he can still see his haggard expression, his cheekbones sharp and slightly yellow, and the heavy bags under his tired eyes. His lips are pressed together in a tight line like he's trying to suppress all the emotions his heart is brimming with. He looks...like a father who has lost his son.

-Alfred...

Wally lunges towards him and almost manages to throw the both of them to the ground with his hug. The old man has gotten weaker he realizes, but he senses that he had been in great need of being hugged. He latches on to Wally and holds on for a little longer than usual.

_If they are not taking proper care of Alfred I swear...He needs them._

-I'm so sorry Alfred. -he says when the butler pulls back though he's not sure he heard him.

He sniffed and blows his nose with an immaculate white handkerchief from his breast pocket. -I gather you're here to see Master Dick? -Wally nods and can't help but notice how something is missing in Alfred's voice; something that was probably lost with Bruce. -And if I may ask my dear boy, what took you so damn long?

Wally tilts his head a bit. It hadn't taken him that long, had it? This isn't his finest moment, obviously he can go much faster that this, but he hadn't been so slow, right?

-I...I don't...I broke my leg so I'mbait slower...but that's not what you mean...is it?

Alfred's expression becomes more stern giving Wally a sense of _déjà vu_. -You think I'm upset with you for being late _today_? Wally says nothing but feels like a child being chastised all over again. -I'm upset because you're a _week_ late, Master West.

It takes him a second to understand the full meaning of his words.

-Bruce has been dead for _a week_!? -his hand goes up to his forehead and pushes his hair backwards.

_Unbelievable._

Now Alfred is the confused one. -I-I was under the impression that...did you _really_ not know?

-No! -He wants to scream. He has to remind himself it's not the old man's fault though.

He can't believe this. No, actually, he can. It's typical bat-behavior. A legacy from the Bat himself. As soon as the words form in his mind he winces internally. He really shouldn't be so harsh. Bruce is dead after all.

_(Now that he comes to think about it, he hasn't seen much of Dick during the past week, but at the time he had dismissed it as him being busy with family things. Being friends with a bat was sometimes like that; although it is true that Dick has always been one for making time for everyone.)_

-Forgive me, then,my boy. I thought-I thought you knew.-Alfred says looking away. -Come in, please. He's at the Cave, do you remember the way?

-I do. Thanks Alfie. -he ruses past him.

He doesn't, really. He hasn't been through the inner entrance since he was a teen; the last few times he had been coming in and out through the outer door only. But he doesn't need to; Dick had told him he was in Bruce's room. And if his family believes him to be at the Cave it means Wally had been right before...

_He_ _is_ _hiding._

No matter how huge Wayne Manor is, how many rooms it has, how much space there s for people to be apart, Wally can't help feeling watched. He's pretty sure there are no cameras, at least not too obvious ones. But even if there were that wouldn't be the issue.

As he climbs upstairs he swears he can hear the lower steps sinking with the weight of another person but as he turns around there's no one there. He thinks he hears footsteps too, or soft, expertly managed breaths, but he's more likely to catch an actual ghost than a bat. For a second he thinks maybe they are loosing their touch, getting sloppy. Wally is not exactly the greatest detective and he still knows Tim, Cass, Damian (and maybe even Jason) are watching him. But then he remembers who he is dealing with. If he knows it's because _they_ want him to know.

what he doesn't understand is why, though; why they would make themselves known to be there but not _do_ anything. It occurs to Wally that they are expecting something. Or maybe it's some sort of sibling loyalty and this is them watching over Dick and silently making sure Wally treats him well. It kind of sounds like a threat whenput like that. Either that or they are some nosy little shits waiting to eavesdrop.

Damn bats.

Wally loves Dick, obviously, and he like this siblings too (he's only met Damian a couple of times but he seems alright) but there are some things he'll never understand.

The he stops at the door of Bruce's room he can share the temperature drops a few degrees.

_Calm down West. It's your imagination playing tricks on you._

Wayne Manor is many things but haunted isn't one of them. At least, not that he knows of. It wouldn't be surprising.

If the invisible, but very much there, piercing eyes on his back are to be trusted, then Dick's secret hiding spot is about to stop being so secret.

He knocks on the door. -Dick, it's me, can I...?

-Come in. -he hears and it sound only just a little desperate.

The lights are off because _of course they are_ and the moment he closes the door behind him he is engulfed by darkness. It takes his eyes a few seconds to warm up to it and to realize that the moon light coming from the shut curtains is enough to get by.

Dick is sitting at the foot of Bruce's king-sized bed, maybe not daring to occupy it; his forehead resting on his knees, his hands locked tight around his legs. Wally's heart sinks.

He looks so small, so unlike his friend, who was always the brightest, always the loudest person in a room he filled so effortlessly but in a way that left room for everyone else as well.

-Hey.

Dick looks up. Wally can barely make out his features but he can tell the sun is gone from his eyes.

The speedster is not used to moving in the dark, not the way the bats are, and Dick sees his uneasiness so he stretches and turns on the table lamp beside the bed.

The light is blinding considering the darkness he has only just grown used to but he becomes it nevertheless.

-I'm sorry, I think your siblings saw me get in here, so your cover is kinda blown...-he starts as he approaches him but doesn't quite finish. His eyes fall on Dick's suit and take in the heavy kevlar, the boots, the _cape_ (Dick hasn't worn a cape since his Robin days), the lack of shiny blue stripes and the very real and _very_ present yellow bat on his chest.

_What the fuck!?_

There's a cowl sitting on the bedside table; _Batman's_ cowl.

_WHAT!?_

He feels like screaming again but stops, mouth half open. He sees the way Dick's eyes get caught on his slight limp and awkward stance and remembers you can't hide things from a bat.

-Wally, your leg...-his mouth twists with concern and he starts getting up but Wally stops him with a raised hand.

-I'm fine, Dick, really.

-You're fine? Wally you...did you come running here? I told you we could talk over the phone.

-And I told you that was ridiculous. -Wally replies not unkindly.

-You shouldn't have come.

And it...stings, because for the first time since he can remember, Wally can feel a barrier between them, like Dick's holding himself back with him. And it's not a huge thing maybe; he's seen him do it with other people, just...never with him. He knows this distance Dick is putting between them is a defense mechanism to avoid being a bother, to avoid getting hurt; it's something he has had to unlearn and that and that sometimes he falls back into. Wally _also_ knows that if he didn't really trust him and didn't really want him there he wouldn't have called, but he still doesn't like the way Dick seems to be talking to him like he's holding a staff to keep him at bay.

-Don't do that. -he raise a finger, his tone serious but not angry.

Despite the questions the suit raises, Dick is _not_ Batman and Wally knows how to handle him when he gets like this. He simply has to metaphorically kick the staff; rip the mask off and talk to the man underneath it.

- _Don't push me away_ , not now. I _wanted_ to come. You're my best friend, Dick; you needed me so I came. It's as simple as that. And really, Boy Wonder, it looks worse than it actually is.

His words would have a bit more credibility if he didn't wince and take in a sharp breath when sitting by his side. He places his left leg carefully extended, his right one folded like he is sitting crisscrossed.

Dick's resolution completely breaks. It usually takes a bit more for him to open up when he gets like this but now he gives in right away, like smashing through glass.

Maybe he's too tired to hold his mask in place any longer. He sighs deeply as though he is taking out a whole month's exhaustion. -I'm sorry. You're right. I don't know...why I did that...I'm sorry, Wal...

-It's okay, don't sweat it. -he lays a hand on his shoulder and gives it a hard squeeze. He's not are if Dick feels it through the thick armor but he leans into the touch anyway and rests his head on Wally's own shoulder.

They stay that way for quite sometime, in a total silence that the speedster is not entirely comfortable with but that he knows his friend needs to gather his thoughts.

-Why didn't you tell me? -he finally asks. He has many questions but finally settles on this one.

Dick pulls away just enough to be able to look at him and still maintain physical contact. His puppy-dog eyes stare at him in confusion.

-How did you...?

-Alfred.

He mouthes a quiet 'oh' and then goes back to resting his head on his shoulder. Maybe he doesn't want to look at Wally for this part.

-I thought...it happened so fast...and everything has been kind of a mess since he...Damian and Tim are always falling slightly short of killing each other and it seems every day they just get _a little bit_ closer; Jason is...I don't know _what_ he is doing, really, -he tries for a laugh but it comes out too strained. -He's the kind that gets furious when he really is just sad, kind of like Damian. And when he's here he takes it out on us and it's not fine but it _has_ to be, for now at least; and when he's put on patrol, well...it isn't pretty for thieves and gang members. I can't follow him or bench him every night just in case he does something he shouldn't; I really can't afford to be fighting with him and I...don't _want_ to, either. Somehow, though, he's sticking to Bruce's "no killing rule" which I think is...something. -he takes another long deep breath like every word takes a tremendous amount of energy. Wally listens patiently; he's used to do things in a rush, talk in a rush, walk in a rush, even _breathe_ in a rush, but hat doesn't mean everyone else is.

-I can't seem to reach Cass either; I-I used to be able to talk to her and she was opening up too but now it's...it's all too different now. And Stephanie...she's hurting and she's grown more distant too but at least we still talk. She doesn't come as often though, she usually meets Tim and Cass somewhere else or not at all.

The point is, everything is a _total complete_ mess and I just thought that I would give myself some _time_ to fix things a little, to hold them together and when I...when I did, when I _finally_ did, then I would tell everyone. I'm sorry that included you.

But Wally is more sorry to hear that Dick's been dealing with this all on his own. e can't help but feel as stab of anger at his siblings for dumping the weight of this loss and their grief and basically everything on his friend's shoulders. But he also knows Dick, and the way he tends to feel responsible for everyone, to do everything he can to make his family and friends feel loved and _wanted_ and keep them from worrying about him. If it meant his loved ones were safe and happy he would probably fight the whole world by himself.

-I haven't even told the League yet.

-You've been replacing him.

And it' not a question, more like a statement, as Wally puts all the pieces together, but Dick still nods. Understanding hits him like a truck.

_Of course_ Dick is going out dressed as Batman. Even if he managed to keep it a secret from the world, Gotham citizens would completely freak out if Batman didn't show up for a whole week; Wally would have seen it on the news; people would have started asking questions and eventually it would have gotten out. And it dawns on Wally that Dick isn't letting himself break because he has too many people leaning on him and everyone knows a broken pillar can't hold a ceiling.

He hates that Dick feels like he has to be that pillar.

-More like posing as him. I'm nowhere near...and it's not like when me or Jason stepped in for a night when Bruce had the flu or something, this is...I have to _be_ him, really _be_ him or everyone will know.

And behind his blue eyes Wally can see how much it hurts him to be Batman. When they were kids being Batman was what Dick aspired to be, the same way most kids want to be like their parents. But kids grow up and when he had that no longer was what he wanted. His personality, his fighting style and general mentality were almost the complete opposite of Batman; and being him, even for as little as a week, was taking its tall on him. Not to mention that, as Dick had said, being Batman when he was sure it was temporary was one thing, but knowing it would be forever (or whatever that meant in the superhero life), knowing Bruce was _never_ coming back, was a totally different one.

-And I...I don't know, the perfect moment to tell never seems to come and I just never had enough time-I never seem to have enough time to...

-To grieve. -and as Wally remembers their previous phone call it occurs to him that maybe it was the first time Dick had let himself mourn Bruce being this vulnerable in front of someone else. -And not just with your brothers and sisters. You. Alone.

Dick looks away guiltily, silently confirming Wally's theory. He's not happy to be right. -I shouldn't...they _need_ me, Wal, I shouldn't be...like this...

-Hey. Hey, Dick look at me. -Wally says tenderly, tilting his head as he searches for his eyes. The young man is reluctant to meet him but finally turns his head to face him, his gaze completely shattered. And _gosh,_ he wants to say something to _fix_ it, to just make all his pain go away.

-You need to take care of yourself too, Dick. It's okay. It's _not_ selfish. _You_ are not selfish for taking time to grieve, for looking after yourself. -he puts all his will power in his words, all his conviction. He wants Dick to listen to him, to understand that he doesn't have to be like Batman on this. -You're not a machine; you can't keep giving and giving without taking time to recharge. Eventually the pool is going to drain buddy, and you'll have to step back and fill it from scratch. And you can't _do_ that, by the way. -he rushes to add when he sees Dick's mouth opening. -You can't just give pieces of yourself until you have nothing left.

Dick's eyes linger for a bit longer on Wally's, like he really _really_ wants to believe him. He lets his head drop to his hands, his fingers digging on his scalp like claws, as if he's resisting the urge to pull his hair out.

-I-I have to, I just-I don't know what to do...Damian's so _angry_ all the time, those...those _monsters_ that called themselves his _family_ stole _so much_ from him and I- for a moment Wally is sure Dick looks positively murderous, but soon his expression softens once more. -And I don't know how to help him; he barely listens to me. Bruce...he was his _father_ , he was supposed to help him heal, to train him and now...He was supposed to be here for Jason; we only just got him back and now he's...he's gone too. We were...we were supposed to be a family together...- Dick speaks and he sounds worn and so exhausted, like he can't finish getting over a tragedy before being hit with the next one.

-I can't just _leave_ them to solve it alone. I have to do _something_.

There's a lot Wally doesn't understand; for starters, how Bruce hadn't taught his children the concept of time off. Specially when Barry had always made himself perfectly clear with him.

_"You're not a tool, you'r not a shield" he would say, "your body and your speed are not the only thing worthy of care. You owe a lot to your mind and soul. So look after them; check in on them regularly like you would with an old friend. And when you need it, take time off."_

But _this_? This overwhelming feeling of being thrown into a pool without knowing how to swim, but also, of it being up to _you_ to step up and do something because there were others in the pool who don't know how to swim either and if _you_ don't do something they'll _die_? That he understood. Maybe it was a messed up thing that came with the _"I've been a superhero since I was thirteen and saving people is the only way of life I know"_ package, but he understood it. He knew the strength of its hold too; how seductive it is to think that i _f I work just a_ ** _little_** _harder then I can save them all_. But you can't save everyone; that's one of the hardest lessons he's had to learn, specially considering his speed. And he knew that, sometimes, the best way to break the cycle was to say it out loud, to talk and talk until it hits you that you can't do it all. So he lets him continue.

-He was supposed to be there for Cass; even though she had been doing so well and she seemed happy he was still supposed to be here in case she needs him. He was supposed to help Tim with university. He was doing pretty good, he was in a good place, had finally come to the surface and I worry this will...that this will send him back down and drown him. And of course we'll be there for him if that happens, that's not it; it's just that...I don't want that for him. And he was supposed to be here for Steph. She had died too, sort of, and then she came back and she...she barely got to be with him. He...

Dick hesitates here and quickly glances at Wally who give shim an encouraging look and a matching nod.

-He was supposed to be here for...- he struggles to get the words pout as though he feels guilty of even thinking them -for me...I...I _needed_ him too...I-I need him _now_. -he chokes back a sob but Wally is already crushing him in a hug, and from the way the way his friend holds on to him like he might disappear through his fingers he regrets not doing it sooner. He clearly seems in desperate need of one.

Dick doesn't cry. At least not instantly. It's not the same as it was with Jason, but Wally doesn't expect it to be.

Maybe keeping his emotions bottled up for so long has frozen them a bit. Or maybe he's still battling his mind for his right to cry. When he tears do come, however, they are sobs that shake his body up and down as if they were tearing him apart from the inside. At first Dick seems to fight them, which of course only makes it worse, but little by little he starts to give in and soon the tears flow swifter and his body relaxes.

-I miss him so much, Wal. -he mumbles on Wally's shoulder, and the hurt in his voice is almost palpable.

-I know, buddy.

-He's not coming back.

He holds him tighter and his throat closes. -I'm so sorry, Dick.

But he's not sure if the words have mad wit past his lips.

_Barry, wherever you are, please, please be safe._

...

-I feel like...

They are laying on bed now, _Bruce's_ bed, but Dick suggests it and lets himself drop on it first so Wally just follows his lead.

His back protests against the hard mattress (he's used to sleeping on one that sinks even when he's only sitting down) and his face is up to the ceiling as if he were stargazing. It brings back memories of his old childhood room and the glowing stars he had stuck above his bed.

-I feel like there's a... _hole_ inside of me. -Dick tries again.-But it's more like a _void_ really, it sucks in everything, very other feeling, very good thing in my life, until I just feel...empty. I feel _empty_. And even when I'm avoiding it, and believe me, I've been doing a lot of that lately, it's always there, always infecting everything in my life, drinking from it and living off of it like a-like-

-Like a Dementor. -Wally offers because Dick and him were always the ones cracking jokes at the Titans' tower to try and lighten up a situation and he thinks his friend might enjoy that again.

He huffs a stiff laugh. -Yeah, kind of like a Dementor.

Dick's face is upwards too but Wally knows there's a vague smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

It's funny; sometimes when he laughs, when he _really_ laughs, an actual honest whole-body-teary laugh, ally can still see the thirteen year old boy he used to be the they met. He's grateful that, despite everything, Dick and him didn't grow out of their inner child. Some of his friends are different after living the hero life for so long. He can't really blame them and of course that doesn't make them any less his friends. But sometimes Wally finds comfort in keeping little pieces of his old self; it grounds him, reminds him where he's come from and gives him hope when he feels everything is changing too fast (even for a speedster).

-And I...I don't know how to say it Wal, it's...it's just horrible...

He doesn't say he understand because he _doesn't_. There's no way he can understand what is like to loose your parents in the worst way he can think of and later on loose the legal guardian that became both your father and mentor all rolled into one. He's _nowhere_ close to understanding. So he keeps his mouth shut.

-I miss him so much I feel like I'm going to be sick. -he goes silent for a while and adds. -That's why I was here.

Wally turns his head to the left but Dick's eyes are closed shut now, as if he's wrestling with his mouth to pour his thought out.

-I wanted to feel...closer to him. Maybe it's stupid but...

-It isn't.

The frown on his face softens. -He wasn't here much, anyway; maybe I should have gone to his study or down to the Cave, I don't know, but this seemed...more private, I guess. _They_ don't like coming in here.

-You know, -Wally tries- if you had been at the Cave they would have comforted you. They would have _understood_.

Dick sighs. -I know.

There's a pause so long Wally think'¡s he's fallen asleep, and then- I didn't _want_ them to.

-Why not?

-I don't know; I'm not usually like this, you know me; I try to be open, God knows someone in this house has to be. But with this...I don't-I don't feel like I should be mourning Bruce in front of them. They don't need that. Now that he's- his throat closes and his voice comes out an octave higher -that he's gone there's...he left an empty space.

-You don't have to fill it.

He sighs deeply and rolls to his side, folding his knees closer to him in a way that in any other person would make you think of broken bones but in Dick Grayson is just a normal resting position. -I don't want to, and I _can't_ , I can't possibly, but I feel like...I feel like I have to. There's a Bruce Wayne missing, and they...

-If you take his place then there would be a _Dick Grayson_ missing. You can't be someone else. You can only be _you_ , and that will be enough.

-How do you know it...?

-Because that's what they need. They need you to be yourself, otherwise it would be like they have lost you too.

Dick opens his mouth but closes it again, weighing Wally's words, considering them. So he takes the opportunity to say something he's been wanting to say for a long time.

-Dick, I-I get that you want to help your siblings through this. I know I don't really have experience in the field but...

He looks up at him. -What are you talking about? You got me, and Donna and Roy...

Wally smiles with ease, always happy to be reassured that he's not the only one who sees them as family. -You're right, please don't tell them I said that.

Dick's faint smile sends a warm feeling through his chest. -They would kill you.

-I know. -he agrees- The point is, I think I would want the same as you, but...you can't...-he looks away, searching for the right way to say this, but he can't seem to catch up with his brain; sometimes his powers mess him up like that. Pretty often putting his thoughts into words feels like pushing a whirlwind through a funnel. -you can't live your based on what people need from you. It's good that you want to help them, i mean it, but if you change in order to be what others might need or what you _think_ they might need then...then you'll loose yourself. -he locks eyes with him, trying to convey how serious he is about this, but also, all the love he has for him, all the love he wishes Dick had for himself.

-And it's not about how the world wouldn't be the same without you, it's about how _you_ don't deserve to loose yourself.

Dick's eyes are round and glassy, brimming with unshed tears, but Wally still sees all that love reflected back at him in them. He knows it's on purpose.

-I-I know, I know. -he finally says- It's...sometimes it's too _much_. Sometimes I feel like-like my thoughts will crush me, like I can't _breathe_ , I don't...I just want to curl up in a ball and turn them off. -he groans, shrinking slightly into himself.

-I want to lay in bed but can't sleep; I _see_ him, _every_ night, every _freacking_ night and it-it's not comforting or anything it just-it _hurts_...I wish my head would just _shut up_ for _once_ , does that make sense?

Wally smiles sadly. -It does, actually. -he reaches out and strokes his hair slowly, forming random patterns and probably a hundred and one knots but Dick doesn't seem to mind. -You won't feel like this forever, though. It will go away, at least mostly.

-I know. -and it's almost child-like, barely audible. He looks so small, his knees tucked close to his chest like that and all, that you would forget he's in his twenties.

-I'm here for you. If you need time alone then that's fine too, but I'm here for whatever you want.

-Thanks Wally.

And while that's what he says, every part of him, from the way he wriggles his toes to the slight twitch in his hand, spells _That's the last thing I want right now._ And Wally understands; Dick's always been one for physical affection.

Still, he doesn't want to impose. -Would you like it if I stayed?

There's a pause in which he fears he'll be turned away, where he fears Batman will win.

But the cowl is off; there is no mask now, and maybe Dick realizes he can ask for the things he wants.

-Yes, please.

-Okay. -he says with a smile and jumps off the side of the bed. He immediately regrets it as a slash of pain shoots up his leg when he lands.

-Wait, why are you leaving? -Dick's voice is small as he puts lifting his head.

He half turns, hand on the doorknob and favoring his good leg. -I'm not going far, Boy Wonder, just going to steal some of your old pajamas, you know how I hate to sleep with my day outfit. You...still have your clothes here, right?

-Yeah, they're on the left side of the closet, third drawer counting from the top. -he says, relief plain on his face. With the corner of his eye Wally catches him letting his head drop back on the pillow as he leaves.

-Man, _now_ I get why you buy silk pajamas! I feel so delicate in them. -Wally teases as he snuggles under the blankets (which, he notes with surprise, are also made of silk). He hadn't realized how big a king-sized bed really is until now that he's lying on one. -Although it wouldn't hurt if they reached my ankles. -he eyes Dick mischievously and he rolls his eyes in response.

-You're _really_ going down there? Fine, -he chuckles and something inside of Wally soars, hopeful. -you're taller than me. It's not a big deal. Plus it makes sense, you're older.

Wally gives him a smug smile. -Yeah but you always said you would outgrow me and here you are, still 1.70 meters is it?

-1.73 and a half. -Dick shots back amused.

-Whatever. I guess I'm burdened with being the tall friend.

-And the old friend too.

Wally gapes in feigned offense. -Only for two years.

-You say that now but you'l be an old man before me. -Dick's laugh dies out soon enough.

The faint rustling of sheets fills the silence between them, and Wally knows they're both thinking the same. In their line of work every day is uncertainty; there's a reason why you don't see superheroes retire of an old age; they either don't age or don't live long enough to. They'll be lucky if they make it to fifty. Bruce hadn't.

Not for the first time in his short life, Wally wonders what it's like to die.

-I know bats sleep in the dark and all, -he teases trying to laugh away the bad thoughts -but do you wan the light on or off?

-Off.

Wally stretches his arm and pushes the little button of the lamp. The first rays of pale sunlight are sneaking through the drawn curtains but they are still going to bed, at least for a couple hours. He's not used to sleeping through the day but it wouldn't be the first time either.

-Wally?

It yanks him out of his thoughts. -What?

-Thank you.

-There's nothing to thank. -he says softly- Good night Dick; sleep tight.

And if he hears him crying while he sleeps, if he hears him calling a name in his dreams, over and over again ( _Bruce...Bruce...Bruce..._ ) he doesn't mention it the next morning during a late breakfast.

He spends the rest of the day with him. He forces him out of the Manor to clear his head and, for a while, stop thinking about his siblings.

They go on a long walk through the piers in Gotham. When Dick grows restless and suggests renting a bike Wally beams; the slow pace was killing him.

They take artistic pictures and silly fun ones too. They race each other in some abandoned train tracks and Wally only cheats just a little.

He drops him back at the Manor just in time for dinner and promises to come over in a couple of days. He also promises to keep his mouth shut.

-I'll tell the League. -Dick tells him sheepishly at the door -I-I promise I will, and soon, I just...I want them to find out through me.

Wally keeps his promise and shortly after that day the news hit the League like a wrecking ball. Dick had smartly avoided them during that first week and, knowing Batman, they hadn't suspected anything.

He keeps his promise that night as well, when he shows up at Barry's house unexpectedly. He asks, of course he does, but Wally really can't explain him why he breaks into tears when he opens the door and he is _there_ and he is _safe_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far thank you so much! I realize it's longer than chapter 1 so thank you for reading! I hope you liked it (comments are kuddos are really appreciated and welcome!) If you want read some rambling about things I thought about this chapter carry on!  
> So there are a lot of things I wanted to say about this chapter, I thought about many things and sort of references? Anyway, first the title. The part that is a song lyric is there because I listened to it the other day and thought of this fic and how it was like Dick wore a mask when talking about his loss (Batman's mask which shuts him out a lot more) and it's like he wears it with everyone and he puts it on to talk to Wally as well but he helps him put it down. The second part about the sun is because I don't think I'll ever stop making those comparitions between the sun and Dick Grayson and the sun. He's one of my favourite characters and apart from that I think it suits him well.  
> The song Wally has as Dick's ringtone is Here comes the sun (again the sun comparitions) but also because I think I saw Dick in a comic panel singing that song while swinging off buildings so I wanted to include it.  
> Also at the beginning, in Wally's dream I put Clifford there because I loved that show when i was a child; and I made Wally's teacher look like Hal Jordan because I don't know who else experiences this but when I dream it often happen that I know a person is someone else even if they don't look like themselves but i just know, and I wanted to try describe something like that in this fic!  
> I totally based that scene at the end where they spend the day together and go to the train tracks in a scene from a music video by BTS (I think it was Spring Day but I'm not completely sure, it could be Run too).  
> And as I said in the previous notes this chapter barely has anything to do with cannon, for instance, Jason is in good terms with the Batfam (which I think doesn't happen in cannon), Cass is pretty new to this and Steph has recently come back from the dead (I'm not sure what their situation is in cannon but I wanted to include my favourite girls!)  
> So, again, thank you for reading, chapter three will take some time but I really hope you'll stick around!


	3. I still get butterflies like it's new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiiiiii! So...first, sorry for taking so long to update! School's been basically killing me these past months and apart from that I really struggled with this chapter, I kind of lost my motivation half way through it and didn't like anything I wrote. I really tried my best to move past it and I think I'm way more satisfied with the result now.  
> So, this chapter isn't what I had originally planned since it has a lot more insight on Wally and it revolves a lot more around him but I like it this way because I felt like I was neglecting him a bit in the first two chapters and I didn't want to do that to my boy (to me it felt like I was writing this friendship a bit too unbalanced and I wanted to correct that)  
> Some WARNINGS for this chapter: mentions of suicides, a little description (though not too graphic I think) and guilt related to this (basically Wally thinks more than one time that Dick has killed himself and feels like he should have done more. It's not a huge plot point or anything but I wanted to put it here just in case!  
> Also, this chapter sort of respects canon but at the same time it doesn't; it happens around the time Damian dies. I searched a bit to get some of the details right so for anyone else who, like me, doesn't read comics, Talia is making clones out of Damian's DNA to create the perfect soldier, and one of them (the Heretic) kills Damian during a fight in front of Dick and Bruce. After that, Talia kills the Heretic. This chapter deals with how this affects Dick's life and at the end there's a time gap that jumps until Dick's death (this part is probably not too canon friendly, I just imagined how most of it went down) but basically the Crime Syndicate captures Dick and exposes his secret identity and then straps him with a bomb tied to his heart and leaves him to die. Lex Luthor stops his heart to defuse the bomb and later restarts it, but Batman convinces Dick to fake his death and go undercover, so to the rest of the world, Dick died when the Crime Syndicate captured him, so the last parts focuses fully on Wally.  
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!! (sorry for the long notes and the delay!)  
> By the way, the title of the chapter is from the song "Your way" by Rexx Like Raj and Kehlani and I really recommend it!

* * *

_Is it a crime?_

_Wanting to spend another moment with you,_

_Would it be so bad?_

* * *

It had been a very bad idea. A terrible one, really. And if he's being completely honest with himself he had known that from the start.

Barry asking him for help had probably been the first clue. Barry _never_ calls him for League missions, or at least, not when he can help it. He has told Wally countless of times that he didn't like calling him to his side every time he needed backup like he did when he was his sidekick; he wants to respect his independence and and all, but Wally suspects there's an overprotective undertone to the Flash's new code. He's still his uncle, after all, and his former-but-still-sort-of mentor. It's something Wally will most likely never age out of.

That, and the fact that Barry wasn't exactly _thrilled_ with Wally's return from retirement, should have been a pretty strong sign in itself.

In hindsight, the fact that he had called him to _Gotham_ of all places should have made him take a step back and rethink his decision.

Theoretically? Batman's "no metas in Gotham" rule still stood. In practice, however, the bats had had bigger concerns lately, so the League ha had no problem assigning Barry to the mission and allowing him to have a meta partner as well.

Everything that had happened since had done nothing but confirm his suspicions.

First, the meta they were supposed to catch. He had stolen a strange serum from Star Labs which had been close to finishing its first round of trials, and which he planned to sell somewhere in Gotham. It wasn't clear if he had a buyer or if he would try his luck at the usual places where people bought this sort of stuff (honestly, it said _a lot_ about Gotham that it had a well known place where people could buy illegal super serums).

They were supposed to follow him until he met with a buyer or these underground serum traffickers (whatever happened first) and catch him before the transaction was over.

If what was needed for the mission was stealth, though, then it probably hadn't been the most brilliant of ideas to pick Barry and Wally for it. The meta had quickly picked dup on their presence. According to intel, he only had some sort of super speed that was pretty good in itself but couldn't match up to the Flash's or Wally's (as rusty as his was).

They had, of course, been wrong. Or maybe they hadn't; Wally isn't sure if the guy could already lift a car with his bare hands and the serum had simply enhanced that, or if he had just been a regular guy with super speed and a lack of a healthy fear of needles.

At this point it doesn't really matter. As soon as Bobby (Wally had decided to call him that since it seemed easier and he kind of looked like a Bobby) had realized he could turn corner after corner and still wouldn't loose them, he had screeched to a halt at the docks and injected some of the serum in his own body. _Then_ he had started throwing cars.

He had thrown a few parked ones at the side of the road and a lonely taxi whose driver was probably one of the only people in the almost empty bars across the street. It would be a hell of a surprise when he came outside, but at least he would be uninjured (Wally hopes the insurance will cover it).

It hadn't been the first time he dealt with a "car throwing" villain. It happened almost on a daily basis in Star City and he had seen it a lot during his missions in space with the Titans (it wasn't exactly cars in this occasions but it was the closest thing).

When Bobby ripped apart the arm of a crane and started swinging it at them though... _that's_ when he got worried.

Still, Wally had kept his quips loud and his feet light and barely touching the stone pavement, serving as a distraction while Barry simultaneously looked for an opening and called for backup.

They hadn't planned to do that, it had just sort of...happened. It wasn't the first time either; on the rare occasions they worked together they tended to fall back into the fighting maneuvers and patterns they used when Barry was mentoring him. After all those years they still fit right into them, complementing and balancing each other out. Old dynamics died hard apparently.

So as he half lays half sits on Gotham's dirty streets, Wally reflects on the fact that there had been plenty of red flags along the way before it came to this; he just hadn't been willing to see them. Or maybe he had, but Barry is one of the few people he can't say no to.

Someone's yelling now, that much he can tell. It's low and distant, though, and he can't pinpoint where from or who it is; his head feels like it's underwater and everything comes to him muffled. His vision swims coming in and out of focus and _oh, now Wally's positively sure that he's floating in the dark sea_. He can taste salt in his lips; _is he really at the beach?_

-Wal-Kid focus! -the voice comes again, closer this time and he spots a blur of read in front of him.

His first thought is, of course, _Santa_. But he's not five anymore and besides, it moves too fast top be him. If Wally didn't know any better he would say it was vibrating.

-Kid, Kid, focus, it's Flash.

The words wash over him and he feels himself float further down. Everything darkens; even the bright yellow light coming from above dwindles as the depths suck him in farther and farther away from the red blur. His head is incredibly light though, his chest empty to the point he thinks he would be soaring were he not so tired and the calm dark water so inviting.

-Kid, don't fall asleep! -there's an urgency in the voice's tone and Wally feels compelled to answer to answer.

-'M not...'m swimming...-he slurs but the blur doesn't appear satisfied with his explanation.

-Open your eyes. -It sounds like he's actually mad wit worse. -Wally, it's me, it's Barry.

His mind seems to perk up at that, like a dog hearing the keys jingle at the other side of the door. It latches on to the name, a visceral deeply ingrained voice in his brain urging him to respond, to listen to that voice, to that name.

-Focus on me, focus on my voice.

The blur tries to its best to be soothing and commanding all at once and Wally does as he's told.

It's not easy. He blinks hard, fighting the part of him that wants nothing more than to drift away and loose himself to the push and pull of the waves.

But the voice's hold on hims is stronger. It feels like he's been yanked by his hair; one minute he's in a haze and the next one everything is clear and bright and loud and dazing. If he has been standing he would have dropped like a stone.

A pair of eyes, _Barry's eyes_ , are fixed on him underneath the mask. His recognition must be showing on his face because Barry's breaks into a smile, maybe a little too tight with concern at the edges but relief clear in it all the same.

-...arryyy? - _and oh God is he slurring his words now._ He's never been drunk _in his life_ (speedster perks he guesses) but his friends have and he's sounding just like them.

-Step aside Barry. -a voice comes from the blur of colors behind his uncle. He is the only thing he can see clearly and _isn't that something?_

-Huh? -is Wally's smart reply before something cold is poured-no, not poured- _dumped_ over him.

The water gets inside his suit and mouth and the salt burns in his eyes but at least it breaks the spell slumber had put him under.

-Wally, you scare die there, how are you feeling? -Barry sighs even before he can answer, his shoulders and hands slowing to a halt. A familiar face peeks over him with a remorseless smile.

-Better...thanks Arthur. -he's technically an adult now yet he still can't bring himself to say _Aquaman_ with a straight face.

He winks at him. -You're welcome, Kid. Glad I could help with something, you guys had it mostly under control by the time I arrived.

-Whaa...?

-You hit your head pretty hard with the lamp post. -Barry explains and Wally realizes what the cold thing sticking painfully between his shoulder blades is. -Do you remember anything?

-I...um...

He remembers Arthur not being there at the start. Not when they were hunting the meta...they were hunting the meta and they got in a fight and...and Barry called for backup, the meta-Bobby, his name was Bobby... _was it though? Or did he just make that up?_

_Irrelevant. Focus, West._

Bobby was swinging something at them and they couldn't get close enough to do anything, or at least not something that could _actually_ stop him. At some point Wally thought he had him but Bobby's reflexes kicked in and he delivered him a blow strong enough to send him reeling to the edge of the docks.

-He...he hit me. -Wally is surprised at how offended he sounds. He really _is_ getting rusty if he expects criminals not to hit him.

Barry's smile eases a little out of the Flash's dazzling interview-one and more into his uncle's warm grin.

-Yeah, he did. Then you ran back an forth that street and shot him with lightning. You pretty much saved the day. -and despite how much Barry had disagreed about Wally coming back from retirement there is no denying the proud twinkle of his eyes.

-Then you smashed against that lamp post. -Arthur supplies gesturing vaguely behind Wally.

-Well that is...not glamorous at all. How's Bobby?

-Bobby?

-The guy. -he cranes his neck in hopes of catching a glimpse of him behind the two Justice League members currently blocking his view.

-Oh, him. He's doing alright. Unconscious but alright.-Barry reassures him. -We'll deal with him later; first I have to take you home.

-Why?- Wally squints. There's a pounding in his head that grows as fast as the fog in his brain disappears and the blinding light of the lamp post is doing nothing to help him.

Barry rises a skeptic eyebrow at him. -You have a concussion.

He simply mouthes a quiet 'oh'. He can't argue with that.

As soon as he starts getting up however, he all but falls right into the Flash's arms as though the strings that held him upright have snapped. His knees buckled from underneath him as if made of crumbling dry sand, while his vision goes momentarily white.

-Woah, woah, easy there buddy. -Barry instantly has an arm around his waist setting him upright again. -You alright?

Wally blinks away the little sparks at the corner of his eyes. -Mmhhmm...yeah, just...I should sit down...just a minute...'til I start healing.

Barry helps him down to his previous spotand sits beside him. -Arthur could you start securing Bobby? I'll be there in a minute.

The man only nods and heads down the street. He doesn't point out to his teammate that he forgot to use code names on the field but considering there's literally _no one_ _else_ out there he has no reason to.

Wally closes his eyes to stop the world from spinning and leans his head back against the cold metal. He hopes his superhealing kicks in sooner rather than later. All the aches are settling down on his body by now, making him acutely aware of the pressure building behind his eyes and the tightness in his chest.

-You doing okay there?

Wally nods and instantly regrets it. -Yeah, got a bi too a headache but I'll be fine...I just need a moment.

-I think I might have pushed you too hard tonight...calling you to this League mission and all...I'm sorry for that. Maybe...-Flash hesitates.

_Don't say it. Don't say it._

-Maybe you should lay low for a while, you know? Take some time off...maybe think about the whole school thing...

The sigh Wally lets out is long and colored with a tiredness that has nothing to do with the effort the superhero life demands.

_You had to ruin it didn't you?_

His uncle never likes it when he comes back from retirement (he's being more reluctant to it since his father's death thought that's something he _really_ doesn't want to think about right now) but Wally had secretly hoped that, considering he had asked for his help with this, he was slowly making his peace with his return. And maybe he had been, but Wally should have guessed that the moment something as ordinary and common as taking a bad hit during a mission would make him go back whatever tiny steps he had taken.

_Couldn't you let it go? At least for one night?_

-Barry, can we not do this right now?

Even under his red mask Wally can see his uncle blush when he turns to look at him.

-Yeah, yeah, sorry, you're right...Just...forget I said anything...-he gesticulates rapidly, his hands a blur, as he always does when words evade him. Wally supposes he gets that from him. -I just...I don't want to see you get hurt, you know?

-I... -Wally finds himself with his head clouded with thoughts and his mouth dry and strangely empty.

He does; he does know Barry's trying to do what's right, or at least what he thinks is right but that doesn't mean...he can't just...- I can't do this right now Barry...

-Yeah, you're right I-now is not the time...sorry-I'll go help...yeah...

He gets on his feet clumsily and head to where Arthur is cuffing Bobby with a certain rush to his pace that has nothing to do with him being the Flash and more with the awkward "I've got to flee this uncomfortable situation right now" speed.

Wally lets out another sigh feeling only the slightest pang go guilt as he watches him leave. If the world didn't start spinning threatening to turn upside down when he so much as shifts his position he would be shaking his head.

When did things between him and Barry become so complicated? When did his _life_ become so complicated? Superhero life didn't use to be this hard, did it?

He doesn't realize he's dozed off until a tune startles him enough to open his eyes. He can't for the life of him get his brain to focus long enough to find the source (which should technically raise some alarms) but he like show his thoughts flow following the rhythm. And he likes 80's pop anyway; it reminds him of Friday nights at the Titans' Tower with Dick blasting the entire ABBA discography through the speakers and Garth and him laughing their asses off at Donna and Roy pretending not to know every line to the songs.

Wally hums with the melody, mouthing the lyrics to Dancing Queen and it's then when he realizes the song is not just in his head but actually playing out loud. Flash and Aquaman quickly look at their phones and then back up at each other. T hey search for the source, turning their heads and mumbling something he doesn't quite get, but they look confuse enough.

It hits him then that he had taken his phone with him earlier that night. Wally curses, fumbling for it so he can turn it off before Barry realizes it's his. It would surely earn him a lecture about responsibility and keeping his civilian life and his hero one well separated. But he can't help it.

His mum'd been going through a rough patch after his father's death, and while she's been doing so much better lately, he still doesn't feel comfortable going out as Kid Flash without any way for her to contact him. Maybe he should get another phone for his second persona but for now it's all he has. His _mum_ is all he has and he would risk getting benched by Flash any time before leaving her worrying with no way to reach him. She's been very supportive of Wally's decision to come out of retirement (much more than he had expected, actually) but if she asked him to stop he isn't sure he would be able to say no. He is glad she hasn't yet.

He finally pulls it out and (he really should have figured it out earlier) it's not his mum. A smiley face pops up on the screen, the words seemingly tumbling out of his best friend's mouth.

_You are the dancing queen, young and sweet only seventeen! Dancing queeeen, feel the beat from the tamboriiinee..._

He answers right away without giving it much thought; and it really speaks volumes of how much of a fuss his brainstill is that he doesn't brace himself for what can come out of the other side of the phone (because obviously if Dick is calling him at 4:30 am something is _definitely_ wrong).

A scream pierces the fog clogging Wally's head. It's a raw thing, heavy with sobs clawing its way up Dick's throat like it's breaking him in half.

He's sitting straight in a second, heart punching against his ribcage and brain scrambling for words. What the hell is wrong? Dick had once broken his collarbone and dislocated his knee during a nasty fight with some aliens and not even that and Donna putting it back in place had made him scream like that. This had to be bad; like "having a pipe embedded in his chest bad". Maybe he's been nailed to a wall in a dingy warehouse (this city sure seems to have a lot of those) and left hanging there to die. ( _How did he dialed then?_ ) Or maybe he is calling mid-torture while someone is twisting all his limbs at once.

 _Focus, Wally. This helps no one_.

His concussion is making it way easier to get distracted and panic apparently.

_Thanks a lot Bobby._

-'ick-Dick, talk to me, what happened? Are you hurt?

The screaming's been replaced by broken sobs that seem to know no comfort or end.

Is it a good thing? He's not sure but his friend's probably not speaking any time soon, which gives him some time to get his act together.

His crying is low and has a paced rhythm to it, and it sounds oddly wet to be from physical pain so maybe...maybe he isn't on patrol-maybe he isn't hurt.

_Where is he then?_

-Wally...- Dick croaks, voice raw and definitely pained.

-Here-I'm here; I'm not going anywhere. Just breathe, you'll be okay.

-No, no, no, it's...it's not okay-it's not... -he takes a shuddering breath -It's...it's Damian, Wal...he-he's...

Wally winces and something heavy drops inside of him.

_Damian is..._

Damian is _dead_. He can't be anything; he won't _ever_ be anything. Not anymore. That possibility had been stolen from him by a cruel sword and an even crueler half-brother clone.

Still, throughout this past month, Dick had always known that; he had always been aware...

Gosh, was he dreaming again?

-Dick-Dick listen, are you awake?

Wet breaths followed by a thick gulp and then -Yes.

He believes him right away. Dick could never answer that when he talked in his sleep.

-Wally, -his voice is far too small to be his -they took-they _took_ him, I don't know...Damian's...Damian's _gone_ , I-I don't...he was just here and now he's-now he's gone...I don't know _where he is_ -I-I...I think...I think he's dead...

There's something in his tone, a sort of earnest attempt at understanding, like a child working his way through the difficult words in a book, that Wally doesn't quite get himself.

_Has his memory been wiped?_

_No, no; he's allucinating, he has to be if he's not sleepwalking again._

_But why? Is it grief?_

_Maybe it's fear gas..._

_He doesn't sound scared though, more like...miserable. Is there a miserable gas?_

_Helium._

_No, focus, he's not high on helium._

_High on helium, that's a pun the Boy Wonder would appreciate._

_Focus._

_I didn't know he was back on the streets either...I wonder if he knows about this Bobby guy; I should ask him, maybe he knows more about where he planned to sell itso we can..._

_FOCUS WEST._

His mind is all over the place tonight as he searches for a better explanation. He come sup with nothing.

-I'm coming over to your place.

At this Dick stops. -No, wait I-

-Dick, please, you'r emu best friend, I want to see you and make sure you're okay and if...

-I was gonna say-I'm actually at the Manor...

-Oh. Great then, I'm already in Gotham.

-Oh. -Dick mimics -Okay, I'll...I'll see you soon then.

Without another word he hangs up.

-Wally.

He all but jumps in his place, his head protesting loudly and painting his vision white for a moment. When had Barry come up so close?

-Is everything okay? Is Dick doing alright?

Wally doesn't know how to explain to him what's happening; he can't even explain it to himself, really. Besides, Dick probably would't appreciate him telling Barry about it.

Following the true bat-spirit he tries to be as vague as possible with his answer. -Um, no, actually he's not. He's...having some trouble.

Barry's mask folds tightly as his frown deepens. -What is it? Does he need any help? Blüdhaven is not that far, I can go check up on him if...

-He's here actually. Here in Gotham I mean. -he clarifies.

As he struggles to his feet Wally can feel his uncle's agitation growing but he still places a firm hand on his forearm to help him rise. He stands teetering on uneasy legs and knees that fell like jelly but the dark spots in his vision are more spaced out than before and fade a lot quicker so he counts that as a win.

-I'm going over to the Manor to check up on-

-No you're not. -Barry's fingers come up to the lightning on Wally's chest and for a moment he fears he'll push him down. He'll most likely fall like a sack of bricks if he does. -Wally you just got a concussion, and a pretty bad one at that; I don't care that you're a speedster with enhanced healing abilities, you'r not running anywhere.

-Hey, who said I would be running? I could take the bus.

-In this part of _Gotham_? At this _hour_? -the skeptic look Flash shoots him is way too familiar. -You wanna take a walk around Arkham while you're at it?

It's purely by reflex that Wally's gaze drops and when Barry notices his tone softens. -Look Wally, I-I already don't know how I'm gonna explain this to your mum, let alone if I let you go anywhere else other than your home pr the League's headquarters at most, I-

-That's the thing, uncle Barry, -he says casually stepping aside and closer to the street, farther from his reach -you don't have to tell her anything. _She_ is pretty okay with me going back out. -he tries to make the "she" as pointed as he can. Maybe he shouldn't be bringing this up right now but this whole concussion thing has really thin out his patience. -I got this Barry; I don't need you to let me go anywhere.

He puts on his goggles and the last thing he sees before everything becomes a blur is his uncle's reluctant smile.

He doesn't try to stop him.

**...**

All things considered, he makes great timing. Yet still, he can't shake the feeling that it means absolutely nothing. The thing about being fast is that you can never be fast _enough_.

That doesn't stop him from falling breathless and exhausted into Tim's arms when he opens the door. To his credit though, the boy reacts quickly and in a matter of seconds has one of Wally's arms slung over his shoulders and carries him inside.

They had come in through the kitchen door (Wally had thought it wiser than to knock on the main one and wake up the entire house) so Tim guide shim past the counter and eases him onto one of the stools.

-Wally what happened to you? -his eyes are blown wide with both concern and lack of sleep. He can't really tell if the dark circles under them were always that deep.

-I guess this is the way Gotham welcomes her guests. I gotta say, I'm not a fan.

He aims for a nonchalant smile but he's pretty sure it comes out pained and crooked. And of course the Greatest Detective's son doesn't buy i for a minute.

-You're hurt...concussion?

Wally draws in a sharp breath as he shifted his position on his seat. -And probably a few cracked ribs. It's fine though, -he adds as Tim starts getting up -my healing has already kicked in, I think, I just...ugh I should have listened to Barry--should have taken the bus.

Tim's eyebrows hide under his mess of a fringe. -At this hour in _Gotham_? With that _suit_? Good luck with that. -Wally simply shrugs at the deja vu. -At least let me get you something...

-No, don't worry about that, I actually came to-

-Sit. -he places long skinny fingers on his chest and slightly pushes him down gently. -You should rest. Besides, Alfred would probably kill me if he finds out someone was passion out in his kitchen and I didn't offer them anything.

-Hey, I didn't pass out.

-Sure. -he says with a tone that suggests quite the opposite. -What can I get you?

-Well, something sugary would be nice. -he considers.

Tim hands him a soda. He can hear his mother's voice in his head telling him not to drink fizzy drinksthis late at night. He ignores it and take s along sip. He hadn't realized how dry his throat was.

-What? -Tim asks when he catches Wally staring at him from behind his can.

-Nothing, I just never expected to be forced to take a break by Timothy Drake-Wayne, that's all.

The boy hums in amusement but doesn't comment and they fall into uncomfortable silence.

It dawns on Wally that for all he loves Dick he barely knows his siblings. When Jason had first come into the picture, befriending him felt a bit like betraying his friend and while afterwards he had grown to like him he obviously had changed _a lot_ after his death and they had crossed paths far less than before. Cass had always been a mystery but for what Dick had told him she was a badass. And he had never been able to connect with Tim; he had always had the feeling the guy didn't like him for some reason. Or maybe it's just that he isn't the best at dealing with teenagers. (Of course Damian hadn't been a teenager and he still hadn't liked Wally but that was different.)

It's not something that usually bothers him though; it just becomes painfully obvious when he finds himself alone with them.

Tim stands up abruptly, clearly aware of how awkward this is, and fidgets absentmindedly with the strings of his hoodie. -I'll go wake Dick up while you finish that. Tell him you're here.

-Actually, -Wally says scrambling to his feet as well -I think he's already up.

-How do you...?

-He called me about an hour ago. I think...I think he was having a nightmare or something, he...he sounded very confused.

-Shit.

Tim lets himself fall back on the still and there's something in the ay he says the word, an air of knowing, a sort of _I should have seen this coming_ , that prompts Wally to ask.

-Did he...did something happen? I mean, did he run into Scarecrow or something like that?

-Something like that. -the boy agrees -We-I don't know if you knew this, but B benched us after...well...

-Yeah, Dick told me.

-Great, -Tim, says apparently relieved to not have to finish that sentence. -well, he "unbenched" us a couple of weeks ago but he only let Dick out there a few days ago. It was about time, honestly, Dick was going insane stuck on computer duty but it also made a lot of sense, B didn't want him to do anything reckless and-

-Tim. -Wally cuts him.

-Yeah, right, sorry. So we were working on this case about these drug-dealers. They bought _from_ Scarecrow but then they paid some ex-Star Labs scientists to alter the drugs, though we didn't know exactly how. We found the place where the scientists were meeting up with the dealers and we went in tonight. They ran out of ammo pretty fast so they brought out the drugs that ended up being some sort of gas and well...

-Dick inhaled it.

-He didn't get to his air filter mask in time so...yeah, -he grimaces- basically that.

For someone who probably doesn't know half the crap that goes on in Gotham, Wally thinks his theory of Dick being poisoned with Fear Gas was close enough. It just sucks to be right this time.

-Is there an antidote?

-Sort of. Since the base used for the drugs was Fear Gas we tried its antidote and it worked pretty well so B sent me back with Dick while he went after thesis guys and see if he could find anything else on the gas. Alfred ran a couple of tests and said he was fine, he just needed some rest.

-Guess it didn't work so good. -and he fails to eep the edge out of his voice. He knows; he knows it's not fair; it's obviously not Tim's fault (he can tell the kid is scared under his cold bat facade) and it probably isn't Bruce's either, but he can't help it. Dick's screams still resonate way too loudly in his head for him to be okay with this explanation.

-I mean, yes. It probably _did_ work, it's just that...you know how Fear Gas is.Even with the antidote you still get hallucinations for a while. It's just the last kick before it completely leaves your system.

From the way his mouth twists and the way his eyes go a little vacant like he's not entirely there, Wally gets that he's talking from a definitely not placenta experience.

-I should-I'll go check up on him.

-Yeah.

Tim's hand come sup and then quickly folds back on itself trying hard to choose between asking Wally or letting him go. He beats him to it.

-Don't worry, he'll...he'll probably tell you all about it when he's more, um, more _himself_.

Tim nods with little to no conviction and Wally doesn't know what else to say or do so he mumbles an awkward goodbye and speeds out of the kitchen.

...

He turns right after the stairs, passing Damian's room. And Wally almost expects the classic _"Tt",_ the grumbled _"West"_ and the sly under his breath about being _"another of Grayson's redheads"_. It's like they always say, it's always the little things that get you. And it's weird because Damian and him were everything but close yet he finds himself taking these little things as painful reminders of his absence, like running your tongue over the gap left by a missing tooth.

With a shudder he realizes that he's been staring at the door of the boy's room. There's nothing special to it; just another closed door to keep away another of Wayne Manor's ghosts.

He steps into Dick's room and it is empty. It is also surprisingly clean (no doubt thanks mostly to Alfred's work) and the only obvious sign that someone's been using it is the bed sheets and covers tossed to one side, piling and dripping from the mattress onto the floor like black ink. Wally looks up and takes in the window, open wide like it had been harshly pulled, and the white curtains flowing ominously.

He hadn't...

No, no, Dick wouldn't...he wouldn't have jumped...right?

A small, maybe still groggy, voice inside his head says that he's a Flying Grayson, that even if he had jumped he doesn't have it in him to fall. If truth be told, unless he was unconscious, he's never seen Dick land in a way that isn't graceful and mostly controlled.

Yet the part of him that studied physics at school knows that if he jumped with the intention of falling then gravity would do its job.

His head is already plagued with 'what ifs' and the fact that he's been allucinating doesn't put hi mind at ease at all; so Wally starts walking towards the balcony in a daze. The closer he gets to it, the smaller his footsteps become, the more his feet drag on the floor. He doesn't want to see his friend...dead-he wouldn't be able to see him sprawled two stories down, his limbs twisted in sick shapes, blood oozing out of his skull...no, he wouldn't- he wouldn't be able to handle that.

As the wooden boards give way to ceramic tiles, marking the start of the balcony, something seems to click inside of him and suddenly Wally's rushing to the edge and his hands grip tightly to the stone, hovering him up a bit so he can see better. He looks over at the perfectly trimmed glass, Gotham's trademark fog playing on the edges of the garden Alfred is so proud of, and the comforting lack of a best friend laying dead on it.

He practically melts on the granite balustrade as air flows a bit easier into his lungs now and allows his eyes to close for a moment. Something moves behind him, he catches the soft sound of weight shifting and he spins around, instinctively falling to a slight crouch. Wally finds the room as empty as he had left it and relaxes at that.

-Wal. Over here.

The speedster looks up leaning against the rail as mochas he can and finds his friend chilling, casually enjoying the cool night air...on the roof.

In hindsight it makes a lot of sense that he's there. Dick's always been fond of high practically unreachable places; he had often told him that was where ehe thought best. Wally had simply not expected him to be in the mood for climbing after the night he had had.

_Silly me._

_He_ certainly isn't too keen on it (he's always preferred solid ground he can feel through his boots and that won't crumble when he runs on it) but he doesn't see any other choice.

-Could you bring one of the blankets please? I'm kind of freezing a bit.

-Sure thing, one sec.

How the hell am I supposed to get up there!?

He rushes into the room and then back out again and tosses him one of the discarded blankets he had found near the bed.

Unsurprisingly there is no ladder or rope he can climb (he isn't very skilled at it but he can often manage). Maybe if the wall was taller the could run up it; that and if the floor didn't start spinning whenever he moved too fast all of a sudden.

He catches sight of a few slightly jutted out bricks and a grimace creeps up on his face. He's never let a wall defeat him though, and he sure isn't about to start now, so he reluctantly stands on the balustrade, places his hands on the closest uneven bricks and starts the painful climb up.

The wind tugs at him like it's determined to throw him off and it's not long before his battered ribs start complaining, his limbs shaking violently as if agreeing.

_Please don't give out on me; please don't give out on me._

Dick's hand stretching out to pull him up couldn't have come any sooner. He helps him to the top and when he's comfortably sitting on the tiles roof Wally begins to understand why this could be Dick's favorite spot.

The wind's no longer dead set on making him tumble to his death; instead, it happily plays with his curls. The ground (as far as it is) doesn't sway as much as it did at the bottom, and his head feels lighter and strangely clearer. He can see the stars winking at him, closer and brighter than he had ever expected at the city.

Reality seems a bit altered up there, where no one can tough them. The rest of the world keeps moving but they remain still and quiet like an insect trapped in amber or like the biggest time-capsule.

-I'm switching majors again. -he's not really expecting an answer or anything, but's he's been wanting to tell DIck for a while and the silence has begun to press and close in around him.

Dick turns to him, eyes a little wide. -You are?

He sounds surprised, which make uno sense since Wally has changed majors five times in the spam of three years. But it jerks Dick out of whatever thoughts he was probably spiraling into, so Wally counts it as a win.

-Yup.

-What are you going for now?

-Journalism, but kinda leading more to the reporter side. I'm kind of excited actually; I'll even have all these cool people to give me advice and all, like Aunt Iris and Lois and Clark.

-So, is it something _you_ want?

-Yeah. -he nods, absentmindedly gazing at the twinkling stars. -Yeah, it is.

-Then I'm happy for you, Wal.

-Thanks. -it comes out maybe a little too relieved, a smile easing comfortably into his face.

-What, you thought I was going to yell at you or something? -Dick's tired eyes are layered with concern as they take in how Wally's shoulders have relaxed. -You know I wouldn't judge you, right?

He nods.

-What's the matter, then?

Wally grimaces; he doesn't really know where to start. He hadn't even realized he had been craving some sort of approval until right now. (Approval he had wanted and expected from Barry).

-It's...it's sort of a long story.

_Well, that wasn't vague at all._

-I've got nothing but time. -Dick encourages leaning back onto the roof tiles.

-I...It's just...just Barry.

-I don't remember Barry ever making you this upset before.

-It's-it's not him.

_Maybe it is._

-It's just that I told him about switching majors and all, and it...it didn't go so well.

-What happened?

Dick's words come slowly; Wally can tell he's giving him time for his mouth to catch up to his brain and he appreciates it.

-I don't know, he flipped, I think...maybe he panicked, I don't know, but he started taking over me saying it was a bad idea, and asking why I was doing this after _"sticking with gym teacher for so long"_ , which by the way, wasn't _thaaat_ long, just six months.

-That was still ore months that the pother three.

-Not helping. -Dick, Donna, Roy and Garth were maybe the only people he ever let tease him about that but he isn't in the mood for it today.

-And I had told him before about going back on patrol and he hadn't made a fuss at the time since we were with Mum and she had already approved. But you'll _believe_ he brought it up when discussing me switching to journalism. He used it as _an argument abut how_ "I'm being too irresponsible" and how _"I'm not kid anymore, I have to get my life together, I can't still got to college with no plan"_ ; does he think I don't _already_ _know_ _that_? -Wally feels himself almost vibrating and pauses to take in a long breath. It wouldn't be good if he ended up vibrating through the roof to Dick's bedroom. -He even told me I had to make a choice; that I couldn't go on like this forever. He said I either changed majors one more time or went back as Kid Flash again. Which, _ugh_ , the _hypocrisy,_ like, he _has_ a civy life and job, _and_ is _The fucking Flash_.

-What about changing your name? Your hero name, I mean. -Dick clarifies -He said no Kid Flash if you chose college, but he never said anything about another identity. -there's a playful smirk on his lips that reminds him of being fifteen and stealing the Batmobile on a technicality.

Wally gapes at that. Oddly enough, he had never considered it. Being Kid Flash had always been _his_ thing; Barry had never fired him (unlike Bruce with his own Robins) and neither had he given it to someone else, not even when he had retired. It was as though he had been saving it in case he ever wanted it back. Changing his name is just something...it's not...he doesn't think he wants that. It doesn't feel _right_.

-What happened then? -apparently Dick has realized Wally isn't able to answer his previous question right now.

-Well, by that point we were practically screaming and Iris came downstairs and half got him half forced him to apologize. Things have been...better, I guess, but it's...no, it's not actually, it's not better. -Wally lets his head drop to his hands and lets out a long sigh. He's just so tired of this. -We barely talk now and when we do it's like walking through a mine field; I keep avoiding ant subjects that could remotely least to talking about this. And when he asked me to work with him tonight I was _so excited_ , -he can't help the childish undertone that is slipping into his voice; can't help feeling _small_. -I though he had _finally_ accepted my decision but then he brought it up again and I just _couldn't_.

Dick nods slowly, knowingly, like he _understands_ ; maybe to a certain degree, he does. He might understand better than anyone what it's like to be your own self, your own masked persona, no longer under your mentor's wing; what it's like to make decisions on your own after _so long_ of consulting and partnering that to feels like you're one half of a whole doing a two-persons job. To pretend that you don't _need_ to ask him, you don't _need_ his approval anymore, yet having that tiny part inside of you that says you still do. It's the same part of him that makes his statements about himself sound like a question when talking to Barry.

And sure, Wallyhad a life before Kid Flash; a life he was been able to return to when he retired; but contrary to what most people assumed or believed, it wasn't easy. When he was first Kid Flash, his teenage brain was like a sponge, sucking up and taking in everything about the world, the _hero_ world, with the occasional taste of the civilian one. All that knowledge was practically useless the moment he dropped the mask. It was his choice, of course, and while he had known more or less what he was getting into, that didn't make his retirement any easier. He had spent so long being Barry's partner, having someone to share the decision-making process with, the figuring things out with, that going back to a life where it was just Wally West against civilian problems was like a bucket of icy water.

-He's being _way_ more overprotective the before. He actually told me not to come because I had a _concussion_. -he scoffs.

-You have a _concussion_?

-Not the point.

-Wha-I- We'll come back to this later, okay?

Wally rolls his eyes at him but continues. -He's been weird ever since Dad died. At first I thought he was just doing his best to be there for me, but now I...I don't know...I think he feels responsible for me in a way he didn't before. Like, the I was younger he only had to deal with the normal responsibility of being the cool fun uncle and then later with the whole sidekick gig, but that was a whole different thing. And now with Dad gone it's like he wants to...-Wally's hands move rapidly grasping thin air, his fingers fumbling for the right words.

-Replace him? -Dick suggests.

-No, not replace him, more like...take over his responsibilities regarding me? Like he wants to do something about the lack of a father figure in my life. If that even makes sense...Maybe I'm getting this whole thing wrong. -he would give anything right now for Dick's ability to read people and understand the hidden meaning in their words and actions; the things they didn't say but wanted to _so badly_ that it bled through.

-And I don't-I'm not a _brat_ , I appreciate it, of course I do, I know he has good intentions I just...

-Him doubting you makes _you_ doubt yourself.

His friend just hit the nail on the head. -That exactly.

As much as he would like to pretend it didn't, having to constantly convince his mentor he was doing the right thing sent him spiraling into self-doubt. -I know he cares, -he says ad he's sure the burning in his eyes has nothing to do with running face-first into a lamppost. -I just think he doesn't realize he's hurting me a bit too.

The words come out small and he feels _tiny_ , even more so when Dick pulls him into a bear hug. He lets out a little 'uff' in surprise but melts right into it. It's soft but tight at the same time, like being put together but held with immense care. It reminds him of the way his dad used to hug. Not that they are similar in any way; his father's hugs were all bony arms pressing hard against his back and sharp collarbones digging on his cheek, but he can't help the dull ache that settles on his chaste all the same.

Dick's hug helps a little, though. As usual, it lasts just a little longer than other people's and right now it's just what he needs.

-I'm really sorry about this, Wal. -he says when they pull apart. -And I think...I think you should tell him, you should tell Barry what you told me about how upset this makes you. No, no, hear me out, -he adds when Wally snorts. -I know Barry isn't Bruce, but sometimes adults, specially parents or uncles-

-Or superhero mentors?

-That too, -he cracks a smile -sometimes they just _assume_ , you know? They assume that you feel a certain way, for example, so they act according to that; and sometimes it's good to actually _tell_ them what you want from them. Maybe you could try telling Barry that you don't want him to step in as your dad, that you just want him to be your uncle, and that you want him to trust you on your life decisions, even if he doesn't necessarily agree. It might take time for him to get used to the change, but I don't think he'll ignore you. H loves you.

-Thanks, Dick. -and if his voice is a little wobbly his friend doesn't mention it. He simply nods and they stay silent for a while until it hits Wally why he had come here in the first place and he feels guilt creeping up on him.

-I'm sorry Dick, I came here for you and I made it all about me-

-No, Wally, don't do that.

-Do what? The thing you do _all the time_ when asking for help? -he doesn't know why his tone has changed to a slightly defensive one.

-I...-Dick's hands work the air rapidly as he fumbles for an answer -it's different.

-Yeah, well...-Wally also finds himself at a loss for words -It's not a good look on you either.

At this Dick cracks a smile and lifts hi stands in surrender. -Fine, sorry about that. Let's both stop that now. You seriously have nothing to be sorry about; you'r emu best friend and I'm here for you any time.

-Also, -he adds, lifting his index -I read somewhere that sometimes the best way to solve your problems is to help someone else.

Wally has to smirk at this idiot in front of him. -You didn't read that anywhere, Uncle Iroh said it you dork.

Dick's laughter makes him shake more than what is probably safe for people sitting on a roof but is as contagious as always. -Well, he _was_ a very wise man. Besides, it's good that we get to talk about this things, you know? Not just villains and case related stuff.

-It almost make sum sound like normal people, right? -Wally smiles amused.

-I don't know how many normal people sit talking on a roof at 5.30 am, but alright.

-Wouldn't be so sure about that; I got some _weird_ neighbors.

Dick's smile is hesitant on his face as if he's trying to decide what to say next.

-Listen, I...I know we said we would stop apologizing about things we shouldn't be sorry for and all, but I'm...I didn't mean to scare you before...you know, with the whole phonemail thing.

It's Wally who hesitates now. -I wasn't scared. I was just...I was _worried_ you were having those dreams again.

Like every child superhero, Dick had a complicated relationship with sleep, but ever since Damian's death he had been experiencing _very_ vivid dreams where he would see him. Which maybe wouldn't have been such big deal on its own if he hadn't started getting up and doing things while completely asleep. He had even called him a couple of times, sometimes cheerfully telling him Damian was back and unharmed and others sobbing asking him to help him save his brother before it was too late. It never ended well.

-I--well...-Dick chews on his lower lips like Wally's seen him do a hundred times. -I wasn't...I was having a normal nightmare, it was just that I got-

-Tim told me about the gas and all-

A quiet 'oh' is all that Dick lets out before clearing his throat. -It's nothing really, I just--I wasn't thinking straight, that's all. I...I didn't understand what was going on or where I was, I just did the first thing I could think of I...I panicked, I don't...

-Hey, hey, it's alright. -Wally's hand running up and down his back apparently seems to be enough to ease Dick's breaths back to their normal pace. -It's okay to miss him.

-I know.

The silence that settles is weighing down on Wally by the time his friend breaks it again. -Bruce is...he's trying to bring him back. He...he's thinking of asking Talia for the Lazarus Pit.

His eyes go wide at the name. -The Lazarus Pit!? -Dick nods -Shit.

His friend nods agains like he couldn't agree more. Wally's brain is already a whirlwind of unpleasant thoughts and even more bitter conclusions.

The Pit would mean Bruce got his son back; it would mean Dick got his _brother_ , the one he had _practically raised_ , back. But Jason had been through it too; would it bring Damian back just like him? Would the effects of the Pit change according to the person? Would Talia agree to let them use it? More importantly, would it even _work_ after so long?

He catches himself before asking any of this, though. He knows those same concerns are probably on his friend's mind already and there's no need for him to add more wood to the fire, so he goes for something he deems simpler.

-How do you feel about that?

Dick its out a long sigh followed by a chuckle that's everything but cheerful. -I'm not sure. I don't--I don't _know_ what...I mean, _obviously_ I want Damian back but I...coming back was really hard for Jason, the effects, it...he still struggles with them sometimes. I don't know if I want that for Damian, but...-he pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed and shoulders tensed like he's been turning thesis same arguments in his head over and over again. -It _hurts_ \--it just...it hurts; missing him _hurts_ like _nothing_ \--I thought it would stop...I thought it would be easier with the Heretic dead and after Jason and Bruce and my parents and everything but it...it _hasn't_. It still hurts like it was yesterday, like it's all new, and it's been over a _month_...more than a month, probably.

-And I don't know-I don't know if wanting him here--if what I want is enough to-to--if it can come before what's right; I don't even know if staying like this _is_ what's right...-his voice wavers slightly and Wally's heart aches at the sound. He puts an arm around him and lets him rest his head on his shoulder. Dick's moves are slow, careful not to nudge him on his ribs which Wally is deeply thankful for.

-Do you remember when my dad died last year? -his lips barely part, words barely a whisper but Dick still nods. -It took me a long while to get back on my feet, remember? -it's not something Wally likes to revisit. The wound hasn't completely healed, the pain has simply dulled. -It still hurts, not quite like it used to, but it does. And it's been over a _year_.

 _A year, three months and two weeks_ , a painfully accurate voice in his head reminds him. It sounds too much like his dad.

-I still get sad when I think about him. I'll probably miss him my whole life, but it...it gets better, as cliché as they sounds. And there's...there's nothing that can prepare you for it, not even life itself, not even a life like ours. Overtime you loose someone it's different; because every person you loose is different and because _you_ are different every time it happens.

Wally hadn't realized Dick had lifted his head until he looks up and finds him staring at him, eyes round and glassy.

-What?

-That was very Uncle Iroh of you.

-I was being serious you moron! -Wally protests in mocked offense pushing his friend's face away with a gloved hand.

Dick's wobbly laugh gets lost in the night air. -I know, I know.

-It's not-I know it's not what you probably wanted to hear, but you'r not alone in this.

-Thanks Wally, really. You won't be alone either.

With that said he lays back on the tiles and Wally follows him, occasionally dozing off but not wanting to give in. The fear of rolling down if he happens to move in his sleep clings to him even if he isn't on a particularly steep part of the roof.

Just when his friend seems to have fallen asleep and the reality that he's going to have to somehow get them both off of there settles into him, Dick starts mumbling, his breaths getting shallower, his tone growing more distressed masa he keeps repeating to himself over and over again.

_We were the greatest. We were the greatest._

By now Wally is all too familiar with Damian's last words. Maybe the drug hadn't completely left his system yet.

**...**

It tears Wally apart when, weeks later, it's Dick who dies.

Barry is the one to tell him. He should have known something was wrong when his uncle shows up uninvited to his home, but things had been better between them and for a moment he dares to hope this is them going back to normal.

But Barry...Barry is _wrong_ though, he _has_ to be. Because if not then that means...and Dick can't be...he really can't be...

His uncle's eyes are loaded with pity and sadness and _hurt_ and _God_ do they make every part of him shatter. The older man holds him tenderly and carefully, like he's a glass doll he doesn't want to crash, but Wally still breaks in his arms. Normal becomes a foreign concept after that night.

Donna had insisted on telling him herself, but Barry had been adamant; he had wanted Wally to hear from him. Wally doesn't know what would have been best; he honestly could use a little ignorance right now.

The first thing he asks is wether Dick had killed himself; if Damian's death and everything had been too much. He thought that despite his bad days, Dick had been doing better, but maybe he had missed something, maybe if he had paid more attention, if he had realized...But no; he's just naive enough to think a criminal would hesitate to hurt him because he's still grieving his brother.

From that moment on it's like he can't breathe. It feels as though someone has dropped an anvil on his chest and whenever he tries to shy away form it or shift his position underneath its weight, it only sinks deeper, heavier and more ruthless than before. The air he takes in doesn't seem to be enough anymore, and when his lungs start burning asking for more he has to take a long deep breath through his mouth that makes him shudder all over. It seems like he can't draw a proper breath, more over, like he won't ever again. He doesn't know how this will affect his speed, if he'll even be able to run like he used to. He can't bring himself to care.

The days start to blur together and all of a sudden he's going to his funeral.

 _Dick's_ funeral; his _best friend's_ funeral. Wally can't quite believe the words as they come out of Babs mouth when she asks them to go. They're with Donna at the time, and from the blank look taking over her face he can tell the same is happening to her.

The rest of the Titans reach out soon after Babs has left. None of them want to go but they also don't want to _not_ go. They finally agree to meet up before and go all together, except for Roy who says he has to pick up something first and leaves it at that. Wally lets them decide; he honestly can't care any less wether they meet at 10 or 10.30, at this bar or the other; he's too busy trying to work out what Barbara just asked them to do.

_How?_

How is he supposed to show up there, to stand with all of Dick's friends, with his own friends too; with members of the Justice League that barely even know him; with his family, and just...say _goodbye_? To his best friend? To the person who knows and understands him the most? How? _How!?_

He hasn't figured it out by the time the day comes, but he's there. From the way his friends fidget with their suits and ties and skirts and hair, and the way their haunted eyes get lost in vacant spaces between guests, Wally can tell he's not the only one.

Or maybe it's just the sun that glares at them from up above, cooking them on this yellow spring morning. Dick had died before summer, his favorite season; and maybe it's something little and stupid but Wally can't help feeling like his friend's been robber of yet another thing.

Everyone's there, all the Justice League and other hero friends of Dick; some he knows and others he's barely met but they all approach them to give them their condolences. They hug or pat each Titan on the back and exchange a few words with them that Wally doesn't remember listening or replying to.

Someone makes a comment on his sky blue tie and the other accessories of the same colour his friends are wearing, and it's not even midday but he already feels like weeping.

His breath hitches on his throat before answering but he remembers to clear his throat and breathe through his mouth. -It's on purpose, -for a moment the smile he's plastered on his face becomes a little more real. -blue was always _his_ colour.

He then looks down at his tie fighting the urge to rip it off. It's the first time he's put on actual clothes and not just an old t-shirt and sweatpants since he found out about what the Crime Syndicate had done. His father's suit hangs loosely over his shoulders, making it clear that it's not his size and it probably never will be considering he stopped growing after nineteen.

Babs is the only person he hugs actually wanting to. He doesn't know how she's been able to plan this whole thing and handle it like a pro (apart from trying to compensate her lack of sleep with ungodly amount of coffee) but he's pretty sure 'thank you' doesn't cover it. He says it anyway and somehow convinces her to join him on Tuesday for drinks and a friend. The worst they could do now is push each other apart.

-Us Dick's redheads have to stick together. -he says and Barbara smiles tiredly. He doesn't mention her bruised knuckles (probably from hitting the punching bag one too many times) and she doesn't say anything either about the lightly torn skin around his fingernails and how it's obvious that he's been chewing on them again. It's like an unspoken agreement; a silent _"we'll talk about this later_. _"_

Plastic Man comes up to him at some point, one of the last people to arrive at the cemetery. Wally nods right through his condolences.

-It's good that you could come here today; he would have liked having everyone gathered together like this. -Plastic Man says and it's all Wally can do not to slap him at hat very moment.

 _He wouldn't have. He wouldn't have liked_ **_any_ ** _of this; he wouldn't have liked seeing everyone this sad, crying and mourning and not being able to do anything about it._

How could anyone say something _that_ stupid? Of course he wouldn't like it...It makes him want to punch something.

It takes every bit of self control to take a breath and answer something polite before rapidly excusing himself.

It's not fair for Plastic Man, he knows. After all, the anger that simmers and bubbles at the bottom of his gut is not at him but at the Crime Syndicate. They are to blame. _They_ are the reason why all this has happened; _they_ are the reason why they're all here today; why Dick isn't at his job and Wally isn't in class. _They_ are the reason why he's...

His chest tightens and for a second the lack of air in his lungs makes him panic. He sits on one of the chair son the right loosening his tie, remembering how to _breathe_ , and decides to focus on the other guests.

Yeah, the other guests, he can do that.

Most of them have already taken a seat on the chairs placed cooking under the blazing sun and Wally watches as they shy away from the hot metallic backrests.

Barry is one of the few left standing, a little hunched beside Ollie, whispering something and occasionally stealing glances at him and the other Titans that have now been separated; and that's theit hits Wally that he hasn't seen Roy yet.

His gaze drifts towards the front rows. Diana and Clark sit side by side with matching sets of red-rimmed eyes. In the row before them sits Bruce, listening but not participating in their chat, and it warms Wally's heart that they are both giving him his space but also not letting him fall into the darkness of the Bat.

The Dark Knight is never a mess and Bruce Wayne isn't either, at least not in the way one would think of. But for what little he knows of the man, today he is his own version of a mess. His face is gaunt, lips pressed into a thin line and eyes hollow and lost somewhere in the bright sky that probably reminds him of a blue eagle and shiny finger stripes. He doesn't look like a man who's lost two of his sons but that's because of the way he compartmentalizes, how his brain seems to panic and shut down when things become too emotional. At least that's what Wally thinks. Jason had once used the term "emotionally constipated" within his earshot and since he could never find a better term to describe it.

Tim is at his left, so still it's a bit concerning. Wally can't believe how tiny he looks besides Conner's and Cassie's bigger frames. Bart is quiet too, which honestly freaks him out a little. Even surrounded by his friends, Tim is the picture of loneliness, his face cool and collected to the point it seems fake. It's one of the rear moments Wally gets just how much the boy resembles Bruce and, in consequence, how different he is from his eldest brother.

After longer than it should have taken him, he realizes none of them, like the Titans and himself, are wearing their masks. Some of the other heroes are in full costume or simply their dominos, but not the bats.

_Guess there's no point in a mask if your son's been publicly outed as Nightwing on the news, huh._

There's the sound of heavy footsteps dragging on the mud; a bush rustles beside the chairs on the left and Jason and Roy come into view.

 _That's what he had to pick up first, then_. He should have guessed. Weirdly enough, he had never stopped to think how Jason would feel about this. Another dead Robin; the third if Wally counted correctly.

He doesn't know who's dragging who; they both look...they look like shit actually, but Wally can't really blame them, he's not so much better himself.

 _Oh, so that's what he looks like with a beard_.

It makes Jason look older, even more so than Roy, but also incredibly tired. He doesn't think he's ever seen him this tires before.

Wally and Roy exchange a nod as he and Jason get some chairs at the back, and when Barry and Oliver spot them they take their places as well and give Barbara a signal.

The ceremony starts then.

Sitting between old half crumbled half moss eaten tombstones, mud covering every spacenot occupied by them, Wally thinks there's no worse place to bury anyone but Gotham Cemetery. He feels like Dick deserves somewhere better to be laid to rest; somewhere more cheerful (or as cheerful as a graveyard can be); somewhere with green slopes and open spaces, somewhere people leave flowers and take away the carcasses of the old dry ones; somewhere people _actually_ visit.

But ever since his parents murder Dick had always belonged to Gotham; he would playfully defend it when someone complained about it. Even after moving to Blüdhaven, Gotham was still his home.

_This is where he belongs._

Barbara is talking now but Wally's too far gone to listen.

He's not ready. He's not ready t go back inside the Manor for the reception afterwards; he's not ready to go to school on Monday like nothing's happened; he's not ready to start using the past tense when talking about Dick and he's _definitely_ most certainly _not_ ready for this thing to end because as much as he wants it to, once it does there's no turning back. Once the funeral is over it will be final, Dick will be dead _for real_ and he will no longer get to pretend or tell himself that he's away somewhere in space or that Blüdhaven's keeping him busy. He'll be dead and the world will keep spinning. Everything will go back to normal except for this thing settling in his chest that is so wrong and out of place. The world will continue its course and while Wally's always been one for speed he wants nothing more than to just _stop_ , make _things_ _stop_ and go back to the way they used to be.

Uncle Barry had warned him countless of times about the dangers of going back in time and creating a new time line by righting wrongs, and he's never wanted to try it as much as he does now. It's not...it couldn't be worse than this, right?

_No, it'd be selfish; it would be so **unbelievably** selfish and it's wrong and I can't...I..._

And yet...

This hollowness in his chest keeps growing and spreading like fungus and reminding him that Dick would be _back_ , he'd be _here_ , and _wouldn't that be worth it? Wouldn't that make it okay if he did this? People would understand, certainly Bruce would, and maybe even Barry, but even if he didn't, wouldn't that be a small price to pay?_

_No, no, no, I can't...It's not what he'd want._

_Who cares what he'd want, he isn't here, he's dead._

_I care._

Something, no, _someone_ moves close enough to him to pull him out of this argument he knows won't lead to anything.

Donna walks over to the front, her pace calm even as all eyes fall on her, and lays down a tiny object over Dick's casket. He can't quite see it from where he's sitting but he already knows what it is. He was with Donna when she bought the Arrival CD; she didn't want to throw away the one at Titan's Tower; that one was Dick's.

God, _is he crying? No, no, no, he can't cry now, otherwise he won't be able to stop, he won't, he won't, he won't..._

Wally misses who lays the sunflower bouquet. It rests atop the coffin, its petals bright, cheerful, bursting with life and everything else Dick could no longer be, _would_ no longer be.

They start lowering the casket.

_Dick's casket._

_He's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's gone, he's..._

He is most definitely crying now.

The casket seems to descend even slower.

Later Wally will know Dick had been undercover all along and had only died for a minute. He will be angry, sure, though mostly relieved, his breathing easing back to normal.

But _now_? Now he just sits in the graveyard, smacked in the face by a ray of sunshine that feels a lot like mockery, a single thought running through his mind.

_Goodbye is too small a word for someone who meant so much._

The only thing he can hope for now is that, wherever they are, Dick and Damian have found each other again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you made it this far thank you so much for reading!!  
> Back again with giving Dick fun pop ringtones; by the way the CD Donna leaves on Dick's casket is by ABBA and it contains Dancing Queen :)  
> I'm pretty sure most of the medical/injury related parts of this are wrong so please don't take it as true!  
> It's a big headcanon of mine that Wally hates Gotham with a passion, like the only reason he ever goes there is because his friend lives there. Also, fun fact, I don't know if it's the same for anyone else but when I talk about my parents I say "my mum" when talking to people I don't know that much and I say "Mum" with my siblings and friends, so that's why Wally says "Dad" when talking to Dick (it's a silly detail maybe but I don't know)  
> Also, I know some parts may feel like a bit too much and I'm sorry for that, I never wrote about a friend mourning another so I just tried to imagine what it would be like and tried to channel whatever stressed-sad feelings I was experiencing at the moment!  
> Hope you liked this and I would really love to hear what you thought of this!


	4. The emptiness is heavier than you think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooo! Happy new year!! So...sorry for the delay, I planned to have this last chapter done and posted before the end of 2020 but obviously none of those things happened😅. I found it hard to write this one to be honest because it's pretty sad and it made me sad to write it and the last weeks of last year I was having a good time and I couldn't find the words to finish the chapter. Also, I rewrote the beginning and other parts more than one time because I was never satisfied so that took a while too.  
> So this chapter is about Dick dealing with Wally's death so Trigger Warning for depression/depression related thoughts and grief (I think I put it in the tags but just in case). I don't really know much about Wally's death in the comics since I haven't read any so I came up with a death of my own (heavily inspired by Wally's death in Young Justice though). Also this chapter talks about Dick's death in a bit more detail than the last one and explains how Wally's happened so Trigger Warning for description of death (it's not too graphic I think and definitely not gory, but just to be safe)  
> Another fair warning, it's pretty long, I just kept thinking of scenes and details I wanted to put so I just kept adding them 😅  
> I really hope you enjoy this last chapter, the title is from the song "Teardrops" by Bring Me The Horizon!

* * *

_The space besid_ _e me is loud with your absence_

_and I wonder,_

_how can silence be so deafening?_

* * *

_You guys have done this a thousand times; we’ll be done before you know it._

The day had been long and all Dick wants is to let himself drop face first on his face and forget about the world. He obviously rans into his family at the kitchen because _that’s just his luck_ and _of cours_ e when the only thing he wants is to pass out in bed there’s a full house. He winces internally, a pang of guilt growing in his chest, and simply picks up his smile from where he has left it at the car.

 _They’re here because of_ _**you** _ _, so you better not complain._

He mentally chides himself. He’s trying real hard to follow the advise he’s tirelessly given Tim about being kinder to himself but it gets particularly tricky on days like these.

This week had been too long; it is only Wednesday, but still. Not a bad one though, Dick would even go so far as to say it had been good, but today had been especially and awfully _long_ . Dick hadn’t realized how long 24 hours could be until recently and it only seemed to grow worse from there. The hours stretched impossibly on and on and on like the worst kind of chewing gum, all the flavor long since gone, the colours whitewashed; only the feeling of eternity remaining; the feeling that this would go on forever or until he too dissolved and disappeared. And there had been this _thing_ nagging at the back of his mind, a sense of wrongness that, okay, it had been there since that horrible night, but this was different. It was as if he had forgotten something, something he was supposed to do or that would happen today and he just couldn’t figure out what it was. And no matter what, the itching in his mind _just wouldn’t leave_ . In conclusion, the day had been _too_ long and he is _so_ ready for it to be over.

Alfred makes them all sit down and have tea together but he manages to slip away when Damian announces he has plans with Jon and proceeds to exit the room. He leaves no time for any questions or worried looks from his family, he just bolts out of the kitchen with a pathetic excuse and a half smile. Dick is no idiot, he knows no one _actually_ believed him, they’re just letting it slide (they’ve been doing a lot of that lately). He knows how worried he’s made them already and he hates it, but he doesn’t...he can’t help it right now. If he sits still pretending everything is fine, pretending there isn’t something very very wrong even...he’s positively sure he _will_ scream.

The hallway is cool and dark and it helps steadying his racing heart just a little. It is also deathly quiet. Which is...good? Part of him is glad he doesn’t have to talk to anyone, but the rest of him doesn’t want to be left alone with the thoughts and ghosts roaming in his head unchecked. He’s already missing the small talk and general background noise of the gym and even the family kitchen. He’s never been good with silence, not even as a child, and he doubts he’ll ever become a fan.

Dick gives the living room sofa a longing look as he passes by, all of him agreeing he is exhausted. He _really_ should be using this stolen spare time to sleep. He hasn’t been getting much for a while now, and it doesn’t help at all that his insomnia is acting up again. Though is it really insomnia if it’s just part of your brain that refuses to sleep because it doesn’t want to get sucked up by nightmares?

He stops at the library and allows himself to drop down on one of the big leather chairs by the window. The mess of circling clouds clotting the sky has gotten thicker and darker since he arrived at the Manor and he thinks it’s good he’s made it before the storm hit him while driving.

It really _is_ ridiculous to be making this journey from Wayne Manor to Blüdhaven _every single day_ but he can’t afford to drop out of work. Not because of a money issue (even though he doesn’t want to ask he knows Bruce would pay for his rent or clothes, or anything he needed really), but because work is the only thing that lets him _forget_. Patrol is a close second but even then there are quiet nights where there’s not much to do and plenty to think about.

But at work it’s different, it’s _better_. Being a gymnastics teacher takes all of his attention, otherwise the kids could fall from the bars or get hurt a million other ways. It takes his mind his mind away from other things, it means he doesn’t have to think about him, and that’s...that’s the closest to moving on he’s been ever since it happened.

_You guys have done this a thousand times; we’ll be done before you know it._

It’s started to rain, he realizes, and Dick thinks it’s appropriate. It certainly suits his mood. He just hopes Damian didn’t get too wet on his way out. He gets grumpy when he’s soaked.

…

- _Seriously_ ? Did you _have_ to pick the rainiest night of the year to go to the club?-Donna shuddered, her hair plastered to her face but easily maintaining balance on her heels despite the slippery flagstones.

Wally looked like he was trying his hardest not to laugh.- Hey, it’s not my fault that it’s always raining on Gotham.

-Actually, it doesn’t rain that much here, we just have a lot of fog, that’s all.

-Only a Gothamite would say that. -Roy scoffed.

-That doesn’t make it any less true.

-Whatever. Can’t you pull an “ _I’m Bruce Wayne’s son, you have to let me in_ ” thing? Or flash them your black credit card?

-Hate to brake it to you but I don’t have one of those. And I don’t think Bruce would appreciate me using his name to get into a place like this.

-I thought you guys were in better terms now. -Garth’s concern momentarily overrode his disappointment at not getting the chance to use the fake IDs he had prepared for Dick and himself.

-We are. But we’re in _speaking_ terms, not in _use my name to get into a shitty night club_ terms.

-Now, now, are you saying I’ve brought you guys to a third-rate club? You offend me, sir, you wound me. -Wally covered his forehead with the back of his hand and gave a theatric sigh. If he had had a divan he would have flopped down on it.

Dick could only play along. -Please accept my apologies, good sir, I never meant to cause you grief or insult you in any way.

-Oh, quit it you two. let’s just go home, i’m tired of getting wet.

-You’re an _Atlantean_. You literally live under water!

-You do know there’s a huge difference between being underwater and getting soaked to the bone in the rain, right Harper?

There was no bite to any of those comments but Wally still slid between the two of them, hands raised in surrender.

-Okay, okay, I guess you guys are right. We should leave, but...we don’t _have_ to go home _yet_. Dick showed me this ice cream place the other day and I think it’s opened all night.

-Why is there a 24hs open ice cream shop in Gotham?

-Don’t know, but I could use some ice cream right now. -Donna considered.

-Yeah, same.

-For what is worth, I really am sorry you guys got soaked and we couldn’t go in.

-It’s alright Wal, -Donna ruffled his hair, now a dark brown from the downpour and the lack of street lights. -but next time, _I’m_ picking. And it’s going to be some nice place on a clear night somewhere other than _Gotham_. No offense, Dick.

-None taken. You guys just aren’t ready to appreciate her charm yet, that’s all.

…

Dick shakes his head as if with that he could shoo away the ghosts of happier and simpler times, of memories that tighten his chest and raise the lump in his throat. This...this is exactly the kind of thing he’s been trying to avoid, the kind of thing that, despite only being able to muster the energy to say a few words, makes him want nothing more than have someone talk to him and force him to think of something other than _this_.

He yawns ending in a sigh and decides he should try to sleep, even if he risks waking up with his face washed by tears and bits of nightmares burnt on his eyelids. He simply doesn’t want to be awake right now.

He picks himself up, leg already half asleep as he passes the little coffee table beside another leather chair with a thick blanket draped over it. Jason’s reading spot. He casually eyes the books towering over the fragile looking table and freezes at the copy of Little Women he spots at the very top. He recognizes the book he had bought Jason and for a moment he’s back at Gotham Cemetery, hands shaking, cheeks dripping tears and drain drops alike, and that friendly voice he misses so dearly going over the book he thought he would never get to read to his brother. He had told him once. A few days after the mission, when Jason found him curled up in his apartment in Blüdhaven, long before Alfred asked him to move back in, he told him how Wally had read to him; had sat with Dick and instead of telling him it was no use reading to a dead boy he had turned on his phone’s flashlight and used his jacket as a makeshift tent so as not to ruin the volume.

He had told him about the book ages ago; he was even able to hand him the gift properly, like it was first intended. But he had never let on about what had happened that night at the cemetery. It clearly took Jason by surprise and probably made him see the speedster in a new light. After the funeral, when Dick needed it, he would go with him to Central City to visit Wally, and he would read Little Women to him too. Wally had never been big on book, Dick knew this, but he thought he would have appreciate it all the same. _He_ certainly appreciated having someone who would fill in the oppressive crushing silence of Central Memorial and didn’t ask for any words in return.

But they hadn’t gone there in a while, along while actually. And Jason was never one to leave his belonging thrown carelessly around, least of all his books. Which means that he...that Jason had…

-Never though I would find _you_ here. -Jason teases as he walks up to him. -What are you... _oh_.

He carefully takes Dick’s still frozen hand and helps him put the book down again. Dick doesn’t let go.

-You..you’ve been going to visit him...on your own…

The drug dealers and the Red Hood had managed to install a deep rooted fear in would never imagine the vigilante they were so afraid of is the same awkward young man standing before him. He rans a hand through his hair that twists his little white streak to the left and rests at the back of his neck.

-Dick, I-I am, yes, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just...you haven’t wanted to go in a while and I still did-it just felt right to…

he doesn’t wait any longer to tackle his younger brother in a hug, locking his arms tightly behind his back.

Jason...Jason had gone on his own to visit Wally; he had taken one of his favorite books and gone to read to his best friend…

Dick feels his eyes water but no tears spill. His heart swells with the feeling of being loved beyond words; because ehe knows that even if Jason likes the book, even if he feels he owes it to Wally, even if it make shim feel better to go, _even if_ a lot of things, Dick knows that at least in a small part he’s doing it for _him_. And that is...that means more to him that he can say.

…

-What you got there? -Wally beamed, setting the tray brimming with food at the table and leaning over to see what was in Dick’s hands.

-Jason’s birthday present. It’s “Emma”; he says he’s wanted it to read it for a while now but hasn’t yet. Plus, - he added passing him the book- it was on his list.

-He gave you a list? -his eyebrows shot up in amusement.

-Yup.

Wally snorted behind his milkshake. -That’s straightforward.

-That’s Jason, I guess. -he couldn’t keep the fond smile the found its way to his lips.

There was a pause in which the both attacked their hamburgers with delight and after a few swallows Wally looked at him, his eyes a bit heavier with focus. -He’s good for you, you know?

-Huh?

-Jason. He’s good for you; he’s good for Bruce too.

-Yeah, I know. Don’t tell him that, though.

Wally raised his eyebrows at him again. -Why? Because it’ll get over his head and he’ll be insufferable?

-You bet your ass it’s because of that! He beat me once at chess and he was all smug about it for like a week!

-Well, to be fair, I would be pretty smug too if I managed to beat _you_ at chess.

…

-Dick, you still with me? You went somewhere there, didn’t you?

Dick is...Dick is trying really _really_ hard _not_ to cry right now so at first all he can manage is a simple nod. After blinking a couple times and clearing his throat he finds a wobbly voice that resembles his own well enough. -Thank you…-he finally says pulling away quickly. -I haven’t...I stopped asking to go to Central Memorial ‘cause...well, cemeteries have never been my thing, not-not that they’re anyone’s thing but...it just never was how I mourned, you know?

His brother nods. -I...understand that.

-Thanks Jay, really.

-Any time. You sure you’re okay?

Dick nods again. He won’t cry, he’s just had a long day, that’s all, but he won’t cry over this, he _won’t_.

Jason places a hand on his shoulder and feels how Dick tenses under his touch. -Do you want to talk about it? Or we can go somewhere…

-I’m _fine_ Jason. -he didn’t mean to snap at him, didn’t mean to put that taken aback and slightly shocked look on his brother’s face. -I’m sorry, Jay, I just...I’m okay, really. You don’t have to do...you don’t need to give me special treatment or anything.

-What? I’m not. -it amazes him a little how well he can fake his surprise.

-You are. If I had talked to you like that five months ago you would have told me to fuck off.

-I wouldn’t have. -this time it’s clear on Jason’s face that he doesn’t believe it either. His fingers twitch slightly like he wants to pull him into a hug again and piece back all of his broken parts, mend all his frayed edges. -Maybe...you should skip patrol tonight. Bruce won’t mind.

Dick doesn't have the energy to argue and pretend he can power through it tonight. -Yeah, I might. See you around little wing.

In one swift move he slides form his brother’s grasp and quickly head to the door. He knows otherwise he could stay here forever, his fingers lingering on the creased spine and tracing over the engraved curly letters on the cover. And if Jason keeps talking he can’t promise he won’t start crying right there and then, so it’s better if he just leaves.

It’s funny; Dick had never expected the reading room to trigger so many memories of his best friend but maybe that’s the thing about books, they often take you to unexpected places.

He climbs the stairs, his steps reverberating on the high ceilings, bouncing off of every hollow and empty room. If he closes his eyes and tilts his head _just so_ it sounds like power blasts and magic counterattacks.

_You guys have done this a thousand times; we’ll be done before you know it._

He passes by his siblings rooms, all empty but presenting clear signs that someone’s using them and he winces when the thought of seeing them makes is shoulders feel a bit heavier.

He hates being like this; hates days like this, where he barely has the energy to brush his teeth and put on a smile for his students; hates that he cannot shake this silent cloud that’s absorbed him; hate show different he is form hid usual self; and _absolutely_ hates avoiding his family because of this.

While he hadn’t had the energy to argue with Alfred when he asked him to stay at the Manor indefinitely, now it is becoming a nuisance. It’s not that he doesn’t like being taken care of; it’s just that being constantly showered with affection his family doesn’t normally express keeps reminding him that something isn’t right; something is out of place (or rather, missing); there’s something worth comforting him about, something worth swallowing their own problems so as not to overwhelm him, and that’s just...that’s too much.

Sometimes he gets to pretend. It’s like a little game he plays; _how many out of place things can you explain or give excuses for?_ Some things are easy, like the lack of texts or missed phone calls; friends don’t necessarily _talk_ all the time and it was no different for Wally and him. Other things are a bit trickier, like not hearing his voice through the comms during a mission or never surprise picking him up from college for lunch anymore, but even that he can manage. He just doesn’t have to think too hard about it.

Yet when his family keeps stepping lightly around him, giving him worried looks from the corner of their eyes like he’ll collapse if they stare at him too hard; that’s game over. There’s no pretending that can save him from that; there’s only so many lies you can tell yourself before you’re full.

Dick closes the door behind him, feeling oddly small in his childhood room. By now most of the child-sized things there used to be when he was a kid have been replaced by regular ones, but they feel too big for him now. It’s the opposite of outgrowing, his room moving on and leaving him behind. The ceiling shies away from him as well, the walls seemingly taller than they used to be. Why does he feel so small and insignificant in the place that’s been his home for the majority of his life now? Why does he keep sitting still while the rest of the world continues to move and spin uncontrollably?

He stops, shakes his head with his eyes closed. He won’t let himself fall into that hole that’s too hard to crawl out of. No matter how inviting it is, how much it seems to be calling for him like it needs him or like Dick needs it, he won’t give in. He’s doing fine, he’s actually been doing fine this week and he won’t throw that overboard _now_.

When he looks up there’s (another) book on his bed side table. It take shim a moment to remember it’s the one they had been talking about with Tim the other day. The second volume of a saga they had both been enjoying and that had recently come out. He didn’t know Tim had bought it, let alone that he was letting him read it first.

He should do something about this. He _should_ stop the warmth spreading through his chest; he _should_ give the book back and make it clear he doesn’t need any special treatment, that he is _fine_ , he should…

He’s smiling. Not in a way that’s tense or forced, just an honest smile. It feels nice. they’ve always had different styles his brother and him. He has known for a long time that Tim is more the type to show love by listening and remembering tiny details about his family and friends and then act accordingly. Which usually means presents or just small treats he leaves for you to find. That’s why his gifts always seem to be exactly what you want.

And maybe-maybe it’s okay to accept it this time, God knows he’s returned or protested against most of his gifts in the pas three months. Maybe it’s okay to keep it. _Wally would tell me to read it._

He doesn’t want to think about the book anymore.

_You know what you should be doing? You should be checking up on him. He needs you._

As annoying as the little voice in his head always is, he knows it’s right. Tim had been there too, after all. And seeing someone day is never easy, no matter how well acquainted with death this life had made them. And on top of that he had had to deal with Bart afterwards. The poor kid had been a _mess,_ and although Barry’s been trying his best, he more likely than not hasn’t been of much help, so as the leader of the team, Tim’s probably had to deal with the ugliest of it while still processing himself and it just...It’s too much for someone so young, even if it is someone as trained as Tim.

He really should go see how he’s doing. He should put his big brother pants on and help him. But he...he doesn’t think he can be of much help right now. He had once told Wally something about how helping others was a good way to solve your own problems but that...that had been someone else, it hadn’t been him. It seemed to have happened in another life.

He flops on his bed, eyes locked on the static but unbelievably far ceiling.

Those were other people, not him and his best friend, not Nightwing and Flash.

…

-Soo, I’m dropping out. -Wally blurted out, quick and sudden like he was ripping off a band-aid.

Dick turned his head to face him instantly, the movie and pizza all but forgotten. - _What!?_ Of high school!? But Wally you have a few weeks left and then you’ll be done why are you…?

-What? No, of course not, I’m not dropping out of school, I spent twelve years in that hell, _I’m graduating_. No, -he says quieter- I mean the hero thing. I’m dropping out of being Kid Flash.

The weight of his words settled on Dick as well as a fresh batch of Fear Gas and _oh_ _**now** _ _he gets why his friend had been all jittery and overall off all night_ ; he had barely touched the pizzas which was odd since they had ordered six and Wally usually ate like five of them.

-Why? Is everything alright? Did Barry…?

-He didn’t fire me if that’s what you’re asking, and he didn’t tell me to do it either. This was all me. -the corner of his lips pulled upwards but it wasn’t quite a smile. -I’m graduating in three weeks and I...I want to go to college, Dick, I-I want to have a normal life, and I know, -he rushed to add when Dick opened his mouth- I know there are heroes who have both but I just...I don’t think I want to, not right now.

Wally looked down at his hands which were shaking not quite fast enough to become a blur but close enough, and it pained Dick to see his friend like that. It clearly hadn’t been an easy choice for Wally; even if it was what he wanted, giving up Kid Flash was probably one for the hardest things he had done. _He_ knew it would be impossibly hard to give up Robin.

Dick knew what to say, even if it hurt to do so. He pulled Wally into a hug that took him by surprise and held him close.

-It’s good, then. If it’s what you want then I’m happy for you and I’ll be with you every step of the way.

-You will?

His voice sounded small, lacking the loud and friendly tone that always seemed to fill the room and call out to everyone.

-Of course. -he said squeezing him tighter before releasing him. His friend’s eyes were glassy but he wasn’t surprised; much like Dick himself, Wally cried easily. -Why were you so nervous about telling me?

He shifted uncomfortably on his couch as if ashamed of having been caught.- I guess I was just worried about what you would think since I will be leaving the Titans and I had lots of fun working together. And I was...I was afraid you would think I was selfish for just leaving to college and letting other heroes do the work I wasn’t going to do.

Wally’s fingers were definitely a blur then but steadied a bit when Dick’s hand fell over them. -Hey, look at me, it’s alright to want things for yourself. More than that, it’s _good_. You deserve it. You deserve a normal life if you want it, Wal.

-Thanks Dick. -And Wally didn’t know how to express his gratitude but he thought that, somehow, Dick got the message.

-But it wasn’t just that, was it?

This time Wally chuckled throwing his head back a little. -There’s not keeping anything from you, is there?

Dick shrugged, a smug smile already curling his lips. -I was trained by Batman, what can I say?

Wally’s laughter died out and his voice grew serious again. -It’s not just that, it-it’s _dumb_ , okay? But I just…- he shuts his eyes like he doesn’t want to look at Dick for this part and, through gritted teeth lets it all out in one single breath - _IwasScaredThatYouWouldn’tWantToBeFriendsAnymoreSinceWeWouldn’tWorkOnCasesTogetherAndYouWouldFindOtherHeroesWho_ _**Would** _ _AndWhomYouWouldReplaceMeWith._

Even as familiar as he is with Wally’s habit of speeding up his words when he’s nervous this time he had spoken faster than usual. It took Dick a moment longer to figure out what he was saying.

He took Wally’s face between his hands like he was planning to make his cheeks meet by pushing them together. -Listen to me Wallace West, I will never _ever_ replace you, you hear me? _Never_. With anyone.

-Not even if your new partner putsshh the Joker in a prisshon he can’t eshcape from?

Dick smiled at Wally’s squished ‘s’.

-Not even then. -he assured and let go. -This isn’t goodbye, you know? We’ll meet outside of the hero thing like we’re doing right now.

-Yeah, but what if I don’t understand when you talk about cases and stuff? What if I get rusty and loose my touch and all?

-Then I’ll fill you in. -Dick said grinning. -And I don’t get where you got this idea that I’ll get a new partner; I already have one, remember? Tall, dark suit, dresses like a bat and broods a lot, ring any bells? -Wally snickered and it was good to see him returning to his usual self, the tension easing out of his limbs. -How come you were never jealous of _him_?

Wally smiled ruefully. -It’s ‘cause Batman is also Bruce and Bruce is basically your dad and I wouldn't want to parent your annoying ass.

Dick fake gasped. -Hey, I’ll have you know I’m a delight to parent.

-Sure. -he paused -Thanks Dick. I promise I won’t replace you with any weird college kid either.

-Deal. -Dick replied amused as they shook hands.

-I had a lot of fun too. -he said later when they had returned to the film. At Wally’s puzzled expression he repeated. -I had a lot of fun working with you too.

Wally smiled. -I guess we can do it again then.

-You can always come out of retirement, old man.

-It’s never too late.

…

His nose is bleeding. A bit hard to tell when you’re laying down but he had felt something funny running down the side of his cheek and when he went to touch it his hand came back red.

Dick stands up carefully and heads for the bathroom between the bookshelves in his room. It takes him a bit by surprise but his mind is quick to remind him that he had taken a couple of ugly hits to the face on Monday when fighting that alien pirate he and Tim had been after. It had bled quite a lot then but it isn’t completely strange that it’s acting up again.

His reflection meets him on the mirror over the sink but it’s hard to recognize himself in it. The eyes are unfocused even when staring straight up, his hair fall limp and dry over his forehead and of course there’s the one-sided red mustache that’s started to spread past his lips and down his chin that just completes the look.

It’s fallen to his t-shirt too, leaving a crimson trail of tear-like drops. it’s just like that night, though there had been a lot more blood- _dye_ on his t-shirt and face and hands then. If he thinks hard enough he can almost see it on his hair too.

…

-You should dye it.

-What?

-Your hair. -Dick clarified flipping backwards and landing on the very edge of the building. Wally didn’t even flinch; he was already too familiar with Dick’s impulse to test gravity at any given moment. -You should dye it black so you can mix better with the shadows when you come to visit.

Wally considered for a moment swinging his legs over the quiet street. -Only if you dye yours orange. To even things out.

-I don’t think I can, Bruce would freak out when he found out. Wait, you know what, that’s starting to sound like a better reason to do it.

-We have a deal, then? -Wally extended his hand for Dick to shake.

-Deal.

-God, Barry’s gonna kill me.

They bought their hair-dyes that very night. Wally asked his uncle to stay the night at the Manor and after they had finished patrol and swung by a pharmacy they went straight to Dick’s bathroom.

It soon became clear that having a thirteen year old and a fourteen almost-fifteen year old dye each other’s hair hadn’t been the smartest of ideas. Though, surprisingly, Wally did a definitely better job at dyeing Dick’s than he did with Wally’s. Especially considering the speedster’s hair colour should have been easier to change than Dick’s darker one.

- _How_ , -Wally wheezed out from the floor where he had fallen laughing- and please include a detailed explanation ‘cause I’m dying to know... _how_ did you manage to get hair dye on the ceiling!?

Dick, equally teary-eyed with laughter shrugged. -No clue.

While they let the black dye work its magic, Wally move on to work on Dick’s, which was _sort of_ orange but a lot redder…

by the time they had both rinsed the tincture off and dried their hair Wally still had some orange patches in a sea of black while Dick had become a full redhead. He had still managed to get red hair dye all over his t-shirt and hands in the process though.

That’s because you’re an impatient little brat. -Wally had told him with a chuckle and Dick couldn’t even pretend he didn’t have a point.

…

A loud buzz coming from his bedroom brings him back. Going over to his bed Dick picks up his phone, the Titans’ group chat alive with Donna’s suggestion to go to a bar tonight and everyone’s answers trailing behind. If he swipes up he can see all their previous similar conversations; someone (mostly Dick and Donna) offering to do a fun activity together and the rest of them texting back.

They had taken a break from doing missions together (they had done a couple team-ups with other heroes and that had been about it) but they still went for drinks together and surprised each other at work for lunch and attended Donna’s photography exhibitions and took Lian out for ice cream. They hand’t taken a break from each other’s lives and Dick is grateful for that. It doesn’t, however, help him decide what to reply.

He had taken to busy himself lately. Take up as many activities as he could get his hands one, do as many things as he could; always on his feet, always moving and coming and going, loud and frantic. He thought it was a good; a return to the old Dick Grayson; the one who met with friends and coworkers, who spent time with his siblings, went on patrol and threw himself (maybe a little harder than before) into cases. Tonight, he’s not so sure. What if he’s got it all wrong? What is it’s the other way around and _this_ is the actual persona he’s fabricated to escape all the grief that had locked him up? This isn’t right; if he ever saw any of his siblings do this he would recognize it for what it was: a defense mechanism. But who is Dick Grayson, then? If he isn’t this happy oblivious guy who always has plans and things to do, who is he? He can’t even remember who he was before all of this, all his life he has lost people and had to deal with it. Is this permanent?

 _This is_ _**so** _ _not the time to be having this discussion._

His fingers dance slightly above the letter, the screen glowing brighter now that the sun is setting and the room is growing darker.

Maybe it’s because of how his life has turned out, or having the older-sibling complex, or perhaps it is just the way he is, but he has never been good at grieving with people, _together_ . When Bruce had died he had done his best to help his siblings heal but he hadn’t gone to them for comfort (at least not at first); the same with Damian and Jason. He doesn’t know how to ask for it, not when the other person was grieving the same loss. He always ended up asking someone else (if he ever _did_ ask someone _at all_ and they didn’t just pull him aside and asked what the hell was wrong).

And Dick doesn’t want the Titans to push each other away, doesn’t want to loose his friends, so he’s done his best to keep them together, tried to help them as much as he could. But they’re trying to move on from this as a _team_ , _together_ ; just friends picking each other up, being vulnerable with each other and not having someone being the one who’s got it all together for the sake of the group. And he...he doesn’t know how to deal with that.

It’s not something he’s proud of. He knows it probably makes him a hypocrite since he goes around telling everyone to ask for help when they need it and then he goes and does the complete opposite. And trust is a two-way street after all.

Although it’s not a matter of trust; he knows he would trust these guys with his life and they would trust him with theirs. He just...doesn’t feel comfortable asking for help in _this_ matter; doesn’t want to drop his grief on their shoulders when they are already heavy with their own. And besides, they’ve already helped him getting back on his feet the first month after Wally’s death, even when he pulled away from them and the rest of the world. He had been a mess; he doesn’t want to put his friends through something similar again; he should have it figured out by now, under control.

Dick closes the chat and just lays face down on his bed. it’s better if he just ignores it; he can’t help anyone tonight and he doesn’t want his friends to see him like this either.

A catchy pop tune starts ringing out. It’s the kind of song that you know you’ve definitely heard before but can’t quite place and little by little starts driving you insane. He had picked it as a joke because it’s the exact type of song that makes Donna and Roy loose their temper in a matter of seconds and Dick always found it hilarious, but he’s so far away right now it takes a moment longer to register it’s _actually_ his friend calling him.

He considers letting it go to voice mail but then decides against it. he’d be in bigger trouble if he _didn’t_ answer.

-Hiii Donna…-

-Hey so, everyone’s read the chat and I know you did too, it shows up on the text info. -he mentally curse the twin blue ticks that have exposed him like that. -How come you didn’t say anything?

Her voice has slowed from the initial rush and is calmer now, softer and more careful. She could always tell when something was wrong with him, there was just no hiding this stuff from her.

He sighs heavily. -I can’t...make it tonight Donna, I’m sorry…

-Don’t be, figured as much. I expected today might be hard, I just...I though maybe that’s why we could all use some little celebration. I- if he were here I know he would have dragged us to a bar in Central even if he couldn’t get drunk and had to basically become the mum frie…

Dick is not listening anymore; his mind is racing. Donna’s words have nade something click as though his thoughts have suddenly been pulled into focus and now he can finally…

Today was supposed to be the day Wally started his internship. Today he should have been putting on his best suit and Dick should have been waking up early to wish him good luck on his first day. Since he was one of the oldest in his class, Wally hadn’t expected any newspaper to be interest in taking him as an intern but the Central Suns had and he hadn’t stopped talking about it ever since.

The world is spinning and Dick is suddenly very very dizzy.

_You guys have done this a thousand times; we’ll be done before you know it.._

…

Zatanna was asking them for help; ‘ _them’_ being the Titans and the Young Justice team. Apparently she and Constantine had been after a magic cult for months now, one that, no matter how hard they worked, always slipped between their fingers. And without the location of their main safe-house it was impossible to cut them at the source.

A couple weeks earlier, a girl dressed in the cult robes had started leaving messages for Zatanna to find, and after a little back and forth they had finally met. The girl-Sarah- had asked for her help to escape and in return she offered Zatanna the location of the main safe-house and all the others she knew of.

-Why do you need our help, then? -Tim asked, his arched eyebrow going over his mask. -I thought you were working with Constantine.

Dick leaned forward on his seat, discreetly making a gesture for Tim to aly off. While the Titans and the Young Justice team had long passed the time where the Justice League barely acknowledge them, having one of its members asking for their help so openly was still a pretty big deal.

-What we mean is, you have the whole League available to help you, why _us_?

Zatanna hesitated for the first time since her arrival, her gloved hands clasped tightly over her lap. -I told Constantine about meeting with Sarah, I just...didn’t tell him the where and when.

Steph leaned forward, amusement clear as day on her face despite the mask. - This just got _way_ more interesting.

-Why didn’t you? -Wally followed.

-You don’t trust him. -it wasn’t a question and Dick had to give Zatanna some credit for not squirming under Donna’s daunting gaze.

She matched his friend’s look as she answered. -We’ve been following this cult for _months;_ seen the trail of broken things and people and lives they leave behind and haven’t been able to do much. -she took a deep breath, considering her words carefully -Sarah has asked me for one mor ehting. She wants me to help her friends escape as well. And from what we’ve gathered some are...more dangerous than others. Their-the magic they practice is unstable as it is, dangerous and unpredictable, so I can only imagine what this _‘other friends of hers’_ are like. But she wants them safe and I assured her they will all be, at least until the cult is apprehended and they can all be properly trialled. But Constantine...this case is getting to him, he’s been restless ans wants to catch these wizards, I think, at whatever the cost, and I don’t know how he will react in a situation as delicate as this one. he’s my partner in this case and we’ve worked together enough times for me to say that _I_ _trust_ _him_ , -she said, straightening in her chair and looking at the circle of heroes as if daring them to question the truth of the statement.- I just do not trust him with _this_.

The silence that followed settled like ice, one that Tim was, apparently, hellbent on breaking.

-That’s still doesn't explain why you wanted _our_ help instead of the League’s.

Dick didn’t make a move to stop him this time; he wanted to know as much as his brother did.

Zatanna grimaced slightly. -As much as I would like it, the League doesn’t always come out as ‘friendly’-

Roy snorted. -That’s an _understatement_ . -Now that he had Lian he wasn’t around much but when Zatanna had contacted Dick and Tim for an emergency meeting she had explicitly asked for _all_ hands on deck.

The witch ignored him. -You guys do; you’re probably the friendliest heroes I know. You make people feel _safe_ , and that’s what I want for them. Plus, your headquarters are the biggest ones, second to the League’s, and that really comes in handy to host Sarah and her friends while we go after the cult.

-When is this _extraction_ taking place?

-Two days form now. -It certainly wasn’t what Dick had been expecting. -We would be meeting with them in Central City. -And he certainly hadn’t expected _that_.

- _What!?_ There’s an actual _cult_ in Central? How come Flash didn’t tell us? -Wally briefly glanced at Bart and confirmed the kid hadn’t known anything either.

-He wasn’t aware of it. The cult moves around a lot and haven’t been there before; they’re just in town for the weekend. -Zatanna shrugged.- The League lets us operate mostly on our own, so I guess most of them don’t know what we’re up to.

Dick nodded. Even thought they were members of the League, Zatanna, Doctor Fate and Constantine were basically outsiders, as they dealt mostly with magical beings and demons rather than aliens and masked villains. He just hadn’t realized they were _that_ estranged from the other heroes.

-We’ll have to discuss it, you’re not exactly giving us much time to prepare. -he said with a smile he hoped was friendly.

-I understand. I wish I had come sooner but I only finished arranging the details with Sarah two days ago. -she wrung her hands together, the gloves’ white fabric tensing at odd angles. -Just...please let me know as soon as possible, I...you guys were my only plan so I don’t have much time to fins a back up either.

In the end they had said yes because _of course_ they would; they would have probably said yes even is the extraction had been on the same day. Fortunately it wasn’t; they had two days where Zatanna explained every detail and answered every question they asked until everyone was satisfied.

-You guys have done this a thousand times, -she said with a wink -we’ll be done before you know it.

Needless to say, it didn’t go according to plan. Dick was starting to wonder if anything ever did. It _started_ well, but he suspected that’s how it always did, to give them a false sense of security and then crash and collapse over itself when they were in too deep.

They arrived early and got set to wait at the mouth of a dark alley on the outskirts of Central City, far from the busy din of the apartments and offices and into the quiet calm of the warehouses and factories. The deserted streets paired with the cool night breeze and that strange thing hanging in the air that they couldn't quite place, had them all a bit on edge. Everyone except, maybe, Impulse, who was stoked about having his friends in his city for a case. Wally, albeit more quietly and discreetly, shared his enthusiasm. The Flash family was always excited to have hero friends visit their city, even if it was for something as mundane as busting a cult.

Sarah showed up at the arranged hour and when Zatanna beckoned to her she creeped out of the alleyway. As soon as she took notice of the parade of heroes in bright flashy costumes coming out to greet her she took a couple steps back looking like a prey that’s been ambushed.

Dick stepped in then, introducing himself and his team as Zatanna’s friends.

-We’re here to help.

Sarah hesitated before nodding and turned around whistling loudly. In a matter of second _her_ friends were crawling out of the shadows as well; men and women hidden under the same dark robes Sarah wore. Dick counted eight, which in a normal situation wouldn’t make him think twice but did put him a bit on high alert now considering they could all do magic they knew basically nothing about.

Zatanna made the necessary introductions again, Sarah joining her this time, and started explaining how the evening would proceed.

Everything ran smoothly. That is until _Constantine_ showed up. Both heroes and runaways stared, speechless, as he emerged from a vortex of some sort of black matter, his trench-coat billowing ominously at his back, and his companions trailing behind him.

When Dick could peel his eyes off him he turned to Zatanna. -What is this? I thought you said he didn’t know about this.

Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Sarah staring at her anxiously but Zatanna seemed as lost as the rest of them. -I-I don’t...he _didn’t_ ...Did you follow me? -she went deadly pale - _Where you going through my head!?_

Constantine didn’t respond.

-What’s going on!?

The roar of the vortex was growing louder, making Dick dizzy and he could barely hear Roy screaming over it. When he looked back at his team he found the wizards Constantine had brought with him rounding up the other cult runaways. One was even tying a blue haired kid with roped that glowed red like fire and seemed to burn half as much.

-What are you doing to them!?

-What you should have done from the start, Zatanna.

Everything went off the rails from there.

Sarah ran up to the guy manhandling her friend and clapped her hands hard enough to be heard over the clashing of the vortex. A wave of green shot out of her and when it passed the portal had shut down and the wizard had been sent flying a block away.

Breathing heavily, the witch turned, her back to her friends, a human shield, and with that, Dick realized they had crossed a point of no return.

It all became an intricate dance of ducking and dodging and summersaulting and kicking mid-jump, all to avoid and counterattack the magic blasts and spells at the best of their superhuman (or in Dick’s case simply _human_ ) abilities.

The runaways fought against Constantine and his wizards and since Tim’s and Dick’s teams were try8ng to stop anyone from getting killed, both groups fought them as well. Maybe that’s why they didn’t notice when Sarah’s control first started fraying at the edges.

Her hair was smoking. It was a small thing, a silly detailed no one picked up on. Then came the warmth around her, an aura of heat that made Dick avoid her only subconsciously. But as he knocked down one of Constantine’s men he noticed it was growing, melting the snow at her feet and glowing around her body and head like a halo. He glanced at Garth and he had seen it too. With his Atlantean magic he called for water but it sizzled and evaporated before even touching her. The smoke didn’t stop her either. She thrusted a hand through the puffy clouds and melted the skin of off a wizard’s face.

Dick had seen worse. Gotham was by far one of the most twisted places on Earth, but it still shook him to his core.

Before he could think of anything Zatanna stepped in. she intoned her backwards spells and as purple dome fell over Sarah, locking the fire that had spread to the tip of her fingernails. It didn’t last long. Sarah folded in on herself, her arms crossed over her chest and eyes shut. With a scream loud enough to rival Black Canary, she extended them, shattering the dome in blinding light and sending Zatanna flying, her hands and forearms covered in burns.

The fire had swallowed Sarah whole, flaming green snakes swirling and curling around her limbs. She glanced down at her hands engulfed by them and the look on her face was almost one of panic. The windows of the nearest warehouse bursted above her sending broken glass raining down like jagged snow.

The rest of the fighting had stopped; everyone was too busy staring at the burning girl stumbling over melted asphalt that sucked at her feet pulling her down.

-Everyone stay back! -Tim yelled. Dick could feel large drops of sweat building up over his mask and running down his neck. -We have to get her away from here _now_ or she’ll blow everything up!

As if prompted by that, another factory’s windows shattered.

-There’s no time…-Dick shouted back over the roaring of the fire -we have to contain her _here_ now! Flash, could…?

-On it. -he nodded -Impulse, with me.

The speedsters rushed past him sending bits of glass and charred asphalt flying. They encircled her, forming a wind tube around her that laced with the fire and slowly began to extinguish it.

Something was off though. Dick never knew exactly what it had been, never fully understood what had happened in that moment, but suddenly Wally was falling behind. Bart was outrunning him and the flash of blueish light of the Speed Force that followed him whenever he went was jolting him.

-What’s going on? -Roy’s hand was twitching. -Is he…? That’s not supposed to happen is it?

Dick couldn’t hear anything over the roaring of the fire and rushing air. Somehow time slowed, or maybe he imagined it, but he could spot Wally’s face, eyes blown wide and mouth clenched painfully tight.

He launched himself towards the little hurricane and when his friend went past him again he latched on his arm and was pulled into a vertiginous speed. From up close he realized the Speed Force was not only shocking him but sucking him in, dissolving him. Wally’s legs were barely even there and the rest of him would probably soon follow. He had to get him out, he had to pull him away. Impulse would be able to finish this on his own; right now the priority was to get Wally out of…

yet he couldn’t move an inch. He had no strength here, he discovered, no weight; he was just a boneless doll being swung around in the worst merry-go-round of existence.

And if he couldn’t pull them out of there and seeing he wasn't leaving Flash behind then…

He saw it in his eyes before he did anything. Wally, too, had noticed that if Dick stayed then the Speed Force would drag them both into it and they would be gone for good.

-Don’t! -he meant to cry out but the air was stollen from his lungs the moment he opened his mouth.

Wally flinched when another shock of electricity got him and Dick felt how it rattled against his friend’s bones, how it leeched off his energy. Their eyes met one more time and he saw his own pain and fear reflected on Wally’s. It almost looked like they were saying goodbye.

 _No, no, Wally don’t-_ _**please** _ _don’t do this, please…_

Wally let go of his arm and Dick slipped like he hadn’t been holding on to him with all his might. He was yanked off of the speeding circle, inertia sending him on a flying curve that would have broken his neck if someone hadn’t jumped from behind to catch him. He felt a blast push them into an even wider arch, farther from the center and a pair of strong arms gripped him tight as they fell hard on the ground.

Screaming. Lots of those; lots of screaming and yelling and shouting and people crying out names he couldn’t seem to recognize and suddenly it was silence. That damned silence that coated it all, slipping into every nook and crevice; crawled through their ears and noses and through their parted lips into every hollow space inside.

Dick rolled on his side and propped himself up with an elbow, his vision swimming. The ground beneath him had been scorched, a wide blackened circle with a lighter center as if a bomb had gone off right where Sarah had stood. The unmistakeable stench of burnt hair made his head spin as he searched, eyes darting around desperately.

He spotted Sarah, unconscious but seemingly unhurt (aside from the fact that half her silvery hair was gone) and his heart soared when he saw a reddish mane on the opposite side of the burn marks.

He had made it, he was alright, he was here, he had made it, he was...He was Impulse, barely standing, breathing heavily and searching the ruined street as frantically as Dick was. His mask had been lost to the fire and when their panicked eyes found each other realization seemed to reach them both.

Bart sank to his knees, broken sobs shaking him up and down as Steph, Kon, Tim and Cassie came into view, surrounding him. Dick fell too and tried to crawl to the center of the explosion; he had to check, he had to make sure they hadn’t missed _anything_ , if there was even the _slightest_ of chances that he could be...Wally could still be…

a pair of arms held him again, strongly; Donna’s forearm armor digging into his chest as he struggled. The night seemed to grow darker around him, the street lights dimming and the moon nowhere to be seen.

 _No, no, no, no, please, it wasn’t supposed to go like this, no, no, no, just..._ _**please** _ _…_

Dick gave up easily enough, slumping against her. He felt hollowed out, like his carcass had been left to rot; Bart’s cries reverberating inside his ribcage, ricocheting off his every bone.

He was gone, he was-he was...Wally was…

…

-eathe, Dick, breathe with me. Can you hear me? Deep breaths Grayson…

Donna’s words are like waking up through a bucket of cold water but it works just as well. Although his head hasn’t stopped spinning (his mouth still tastes of burnt hair) and his lungs burn like he has never taken one good breath in all his life, Dick can hear her now; he’s out, he’s not there anymore.

His chest hurts as if he’s being stabbed but he manages to wheeze out -I...I hear you, Don, I’.-I’m here…

Donna waits until his breathing has eased a little back to normal before quietly asking. -You were back there, weren’t you?

-I…

His silence betrays him it seems because his friend sighs. -I didn’t mean to push you there, I’m sorry.

-It’s...it’s fine Donna, don’t worry about it.- he finds himself half smiling. -To be honest, I haven’t been feeling myself all day so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.

-It wasn’t your fault. -she says like she’s repeated him a hundred times.

Dick still winces. -I know.

A beat.

-Give me half an hour and I’ll be at the Manor. You’re not back in Blüdhaven are you?

-No-I...no, I’m not but that’s not...don’t worry about it, I’m alright. I’ll just go to bed; besides you already got plans tonight and I don’t want you to have to cancel for…

-Dick, don’t be stupid.

Donna’s using her serious voice now and Dick knows better than to argue, especially with his brain so slow and half-asleep, but the last thing he wants right now is to meet up with anyone. -I’m not. I had a long ass day; I just want to sleep for the rest of the week. Seriously Donna, I’ll be alright.

-Fine, -she says after some consideration and, for a moment, Dick thinks he’s gotten one of the most stubborn people he knows to budge. He is, obviously, terribly mistaken. -I’ll swing by the Manor tomorrow morning. It’s your day off, right?

-No, Donna, I-it’s alright, I’ll be fine, I don’t-

-It wasn’t a question Dick. I’ll go over tomorrow and you’re going to help me pick a nice couch for my new place, okay?

it’s crystal clear that he won’t change her mind about this, but, honestly? Going furniture shopping with her sounds like a better plan than reliving that night all over again; and he’s sure he’ll feel much more up to it tomorrow after putting this day behind him.

-You always say I have terrible taste in furniture.

-That’s what makes it fun. -she teases back and it’s enough to make it a deal.

He stays laying on his back way after they’ve hung up.

Wally had done everything right. Everything he was supposed to do. He never missed one single groups training after coming back of retirement; he went on mission with the Titans and when they did team-ups with other heroes as well; he trained on his own too and patrolled in Central City. And that _still_ hadn’t been enough. He still had been slower than Impulse, than Sarah’s fire and than the _fucking_ Speed Force. He still hadn’t been fast _enough_.

Some of the heroes that had approached him and the Titans had said he was a hero. Others that he had known the risks of this life. And Dick knew they were trying to comfort them and offer their sympathy, that they didn’t mean it _that_ way. But, unsurprisingly, the knowledge didn’t help him at all. _Of course_ Wally was a hero, there was no questioning that; and _obviously_ he knew the risks of the superhero life, having lived it since he was a teenager. But how did _any_ of that make things better? How did it make this less unfair? How could that fill the gaping bleeding hole Wally had left in his life, in the very world? This place was a much darker one without Wally West in it.

Dick doesn't want to go to bed. After all that he can’t just fall asleep and see him knowing he will still be gone when he wakes up. His fingers move of their own accord and scroll down the contact list, his eyes unseen. As he expected, they stop at the ‘W’.

He stares at the contact info; the name, the little round profile picture, the eight digits of the phone number, and he suddenly knows what he wants to do, what he _will_ do. It may not be the best way to deal with it but _it’ll be just for a little while_ , he tells himself. Just a little, to drown the silence and all the ghosts that start lurking around with it. Yeah, just a little while, and then he can go on.

He hesitates for another second and presses the green button.

Wally’s cellphone rings, somewhere far by the bookshelf and for a beautiful moment, his childhood room is filled with music. he’s taken the habit of charging it every now and then. He doesn’t know when it started (probably about the time he decided to keep paying Wally’s phone bill so his number wouldn’t get disconnected) but thanks to that he can now hear the first verse with perfect clarity.

_Uptown girl,_

_she’s been living in her uptown world,_

_I bet she’ never had a backstreet_

_guy_

_I bet her momma never told her_

_why_

The music fades just as quickly as it came and Dick is finally set to voicemail.

“ _Hi! This is Wally, although you probably know that already since you called me. But anyway, sorry to miss your call, I’ll text or call you back in...a flash!”_

There’s a slight beep at the end that Dick doesn’t hear.

He is _stunned_. It’s a normal voicemail, one he’s heard a _million_ _times_ , and yet, the way it’s so _him_ leaves him astonished. The corny flash pun that’s innocent enough to no raise suspicions from anyone who knows him only as Wally West; the quick little apology and the light cheery tone of the message, as if anyone who’s listening is a friend. It’s so _‘Wally_ ’ Dick had forgotten how much of him there was in such a short tiny thing.

Another beep signaling the time to leave messages has ended, jolts him out of his trance.

He shakes his head to stave off the woozy feeling and calls again.

-Hi, sooo...hi, Wal...It’s-it’s been a while, how are…? I know we haven’t... _talked_ , I guess, in some time, I’ve got so much to tell you...I-where should I start? Garth has short hair now, which is...yeah, I know, but he pulls it off; I would have never thought but it looks good on him. He can’t do the fancy hair flip now but I think he’ll figure something out. Bab’s got this amazing internship coming up...I know I’ll miss her ‘cause she’s going all the way to New York and all but I’m really happy for her. it’s a greta opportunity and I haven’t seen her this excited in a long time.

He starts slow, with certain reservations, like dipping your toes in the sea to check the temperature. But soon enough he dives right in with practiced ease. It’s always like that; maybe the machine makes things a bit difficult but talking to Wally never was.

-Oh, remember the other day I was telling you about how Donna was looking for a new place? Well, she already found one and is moving in next week. It’s this amazing loft with gigantic windows, it has really good lighting and she says it’s perfect for day shoots, so there’s that. _And_ she has a spare room for Cassie for when she needs a place to crash and-

The beep cuts him off.

-Sorry ‘bout that, I got-the beep just...never mind, where was I? Oh, yeah, Roy got Lian her first bicycle so we go to the park a lot more now. You wouldn't _believe_ how big her eyes got when she saw it. Roy was a nervous wreck the first few times we took her out for a ride, fretting over her, double checking her knee pads and borderline _threatening_ the other kids at the park about what would happen if they weren’t careful around her. He was _definitely_ more scared about the whole thing than _she_ was, to be honest. And I think Ollie would have had the time of his life watching Roy forcing Lian to wear a helmet after all the times he scolded _Roy_ for not wearing his when riding his motorcycle.

He pauses.

-She still talks abut you, you know? She keeps asking where _uncle Wally_ has gone or when he’ll come visit and Roy doesn't know what to tell her. He’s not sure if he should tell her the truth or just make something up until she’s a bit older. She’s still young...I don’t think she notices how Roy’s smile falters when she brings it up, but he’s doing the dad-thing really well...he just doesn’t know what to say to her...none of us do.

-She asked once when we were hanging out with the Young Justice team and Impulse was around. You should have _seen_ the look on that kid’s face, Wal, I-he was bawling his eyes out in a matter of seconds. Kon had to practically pick him up of the floor and take him somewhere else. And then _Lian_ started crying because she thought Bart was mad at her and it was all just a big mess and-

_Beep_

-Shit. -Dick sat up on the edge of his bed and took a deep breath.

-The stupid ‘beep’ keeps cutting me off so I’ll try to speak a little faster. I’ll be done in... _a flash_.

The laughter die son his lips.

-Did it-did it hurt a lot? Were you in pain? I...I hope you weren’t. -he likes to think he wasn’t; that after a while the shocks the Speed Force was giving him stopped and getting sucked into it was just like falling asleep. Maybe because he doesn’t know what he would do otherwise. -I’m sure-I’m sure you were sacred though...I’m sorry about that; I-I wish I could have helped; I wish you had gone in peace...Dying’s no fun and it...it’s so much worse when you’re scared.

He has to stop to steady his voice.

He remembers being scared. When Lex Luthor pushed that pill into his mouth and covered his face with his hand he had been scared. The realization that that was it, that was the end, that was as far as he would go. He didn’t know if Lex would be able to restart his heart or if he would even try. And when he forced him to make a decision -swallow the pill or choke to death- he had been terrified of making the wrong one. What would hurt less? Which one would be quicker, more peaceful?

-Is this how it felt? -his voice still wobbles- When I was dead...is this-is this how you felt when I was dead? Did it _hurt_ like this?

_Beep_

-I tried Wally; I _swear_ I did. I tried _so hard_ to be alright, to be fine with this but I-I can’t...I-I need you to tell me that it...that it’ll be alright. I need you to tell me that it’s okay to miss you still and to have bad days and setbacks, because I...because I know it, in my head _I know it_ , but in my heart I...it doesn’t feel that way and you...you always knew how to get me to believe it...you were always better at convincing me of these kind of stuff than I ever was. -he chokes back on a laugh. Or is it a sob? He can’t really tell at this point.

Dick sniffs and when he speaks again it comes out small, shy, like truths forced down for too long often do. -I wish you could come back.

Part of him is glad there was no body, otherwise he would have been tempted to use the Lazarus Pit and doesn’t know what Wally would have done then. After seeing how hard it had been for Jason to come back through the Pit he was sure Wally loathed even the _idea_ of it. He could imagine how much he would _hate_ it; how much he would resent Dick for making him go through that, for bringing him back that way, even if it was the _only way_.

But maybe...maybe it wouldn’t have been that bad. Sure, Wally probably would never speak to him afterwards, but he would get to laugh _again_ ; he would be able to got to his internship, to see his therapist again. He would get to run, he would be _Flash_ again. He would get to hug Lian and play with his nephews and joke with the Titans. He would get to enjoy the life he had built again. So maybe...it would be worth it.

Guess they would never know.

-I...I miss you Wal, I’m...I’m so sorry-I'm sorry I ever called all the Titans, I’m sorry I said yes to Zatanna, I’m sorry I practically sent you to your _death_ -I’m-

_BEEEP_

_Beep, beep, beeeep_ ; it keeps ringing out in his head. _Beep, beep, beeep_.

Dick slides to the floor, shoulders crumbling and body trembling. His eyes burn as his fingers fumble over the suddenly too small screen to call again. But they are clumsy clunky things that keep missing the mark and they just take _too long_ and if those pesky tears wouldn’t cloud his vision for _just one second_ then he would see properly and just hit the right button-it’s not that hard damnit what is wrong with him- and if this lump in his throat would _just go away_ and let him _breathe_ then he would be able to think straight and and…

His phone falls to his lap.

-I...shit- _fuck_... _fuck_ …-his sobs swallow the rest, rushing to drown him like angry waves. He is shaking all over, as if struggling with their pull, and they claw at his lungs and scrape his throat raw. Tears wash down his face and past his shirt with the little blood droplets, as the hiccuping and shallow breaths make his shoulders jump a little.

_BEEP_

“ _Hi! This is Wally, although you probably know that already since you called me. But anyway, sorry to miss your call, I’ll text or call you back in...a flash!”_

The waves drown him once more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So,to anyone reading this thank you so much for reading!!  
> Dick's memories of Wally are chronologically backwards, the first one being after Batman fired Dick and he's already moved to Blüdhaven and the last one when he's still Robin (except for the part with Wally's death that happened after all of this) the style of this chapter (meaning the memories and the poem at the beginning) was inspired by the fic "Thursday Misadventures" by CKBookish which you should definitely read because it's awesome!! https://archiveofourown.org/works/23202997  
> Also, to be honest, I included the detail of Dick charging Wally's phone only because I wanted him to have another funky ringtone for Dick, I just had one in every chapter and didn't want to give it up in the last.  
> (Edit) Sorry to anyone who liked Constantine, I really don't know much about him I just needed a partner for Zatanna and I think I read somewhere that they worked together on some occasions? That and I needed that someone to betray her and be sort of the bad guy so, sorry about that😐  
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this last chapter and the story in general as much as I did, I never wrote a fic this long before and it was pretty hard but I liked it. I would love to hear your thoughts about the chapter or the whole story or just things you liked!! Thank you for reading and to everyone who commented you guys made my day!❤️


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